The Happiness of Another
by WeepingLoveGrass
Summary: What if Spencer wasn't as alone in life as his friends and coworkers thought he was? What if there was an equally intelligent girlfriend behind the scenes? It's not like it'd have been the first secret he kept from the team. What if he was just better at keeping this one in the dark? And what if their relationship is the reason he knows so much about skeletons?
1. Chapter 1: September 2005

**Authors Note: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **P.S.: I am dyslexic. Any grammatical error is caused by such dyslexia, and after so many years of failing grammar, I could give less of a shit about how you feel about it or what I did wrong. If you want to correct my facts or translations, I welcome it. If something I wrote doesn't make sense, I welcome your opinion. Spelling and grammar errors? Not so much. If it bothers you, find something else to read.**

* * *

 _Chapter 1: September 2005_

 _"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."_  
 _-Lao Txu_

Spencer walked through the Smithsonian Mall until he found the person he was looking for bundled up on the steps of the Jeffersonian Institute. It was the late afternoon in the middle of September so it wasn't too cold, yet still not hot enough to bother the woman. The woman was sitting on the steps with a large clip board in her lap with a sketch book and a skull balanced on it. Beside her was a large leather purse, and a pair of sleek heels. The skull on the clip board had multiple erasers laced on it as flesh markers, and the woman was fleshing it out on the sketchbook. Spencer took the two cups of coffees he'd brought with him and sat down next to her, handing the coffee with more cream in it to her. She smiled at him, taking a sip and going back to drawing her death mask. He adjusted his messenger bag next to him, before taking a sip of his coffee.

"How was your first case with Gideon back?" Dr. Harley Isley asked, as she drew the face of a young woman onto her sketchpad. Harley was almost Spencer's age, just a few months younger, a fact she enjoyed reminding Spencer of. They'd meet for the first time when he was 18, and saw each other sporadically for the next few years until they were both 21 and living in Virginia, but they'd been pen pals for years before that. Harley was one of the few people he'd meet who could match him in intellect. She had two PhD's already: one in Environmental Studies and one in Forensic Science. And she was working on two more in Anthropology, and Archaeology. Unlike Spencer, Harley had bounced around for college, starting out at Humboldt State, and bounced around universities that had the programs needed for her degrees, or some that just had classes she wanted to take, and even a few research programs abroad. Currently, she was interning (although her official title was assistant, of which she was one of a pair of) at the Jeffersonian, under the esteemed Dr. Brennan, and taking a few months a year to go to digs and research sights abroad. Spencer thought it was all a little over kill, and that she was just trying to accumulate more PhD's than him. But if he brought it up, Harley would just roll her eyes at him.

"We caught the killer," Spencer shrugged, before taking a gulp of his coffee. What more was there to say, really? It's not like he could say it was a good case, because people did die. And it does seem a little questionable to call that good in any capacity. But… "It felt good to be working with the whole team again."

"Good," Harley smiled, brushing a stray hair way from her face. Sitting down, Harley was a good half a foot shorter than him, if not more. In total she was a little over a foot shorter than Spencer in stature, standing at only five feet tall flat footed, and less than a hundred bounds to boot. She could joke about being younger but Spencer got to call her a midget in return. She had a heart shaped face with a button nose and a pair of dark brown eyes. Being brown, he couldn't compare them to swirling oceans, raging storms, or vast jungles. But the specific color of brown that her eyes were reminded him of molten chocolate or brownie batter. They had that type of warmth and familiarity that just reminded you of comforting things like a mother's hug or the comforts of a warm bed. Her hair was a similar color, rich, thick, and warm, with depth to it that people didn't usually associate with brown, but her hair's dark color actually mixed several colors together, and would get significantly lighter in the right light. She had a habit of growing her hair out to long lengths and cutting it all off and donating it to make wigs for little girls who needed then. She'd cut it into a short pixie right before going to Guatemala, and it was currently in the stage between a pixie and a bob with a long front bang that she liked styling. She'd cut it shorter than was likely necessary, but it looked adorable on her. She had on a pair of jeans, a hunter green long sleeve, one of those white padded vests with a fur lined hood, and a pair of thick socks she'd put on in place of wearing her usual heels as she sat on the steeps with him. Her skin which was usually extremely pale and alabaster in color had tanned just slightly from hours spent in the sun with SPF 50 sunblock. It was probably the most vitamin D she'd gotten in a while. He could tell she was wearing makeup, although aside from the flared eyeliner and the tinted Chap Stick she wore most days, it wasn't anything that really stuck out. Harley preferred a semi-natural look to her makeup. "Hey if you check my bag, there is a book in there I thought you might be interested in."

Spencer pulled the black leather purse she'd sat next to her towards him as she took a sip of her coffee without interrupting her drawing and pulled out a large novel from within it. _A Suitable Boy_ by Vikram Seth. It's the longest novel in the English language to be published in a single volume, with an almost 6oo thousand word word-count. Harley had taken it upon herself to find him extremely long books to read since they'd meet. Sometimes they came in multiple volumes (like _In Search of Lost Time_ by Marcel Proust, the third longest book, at nearly 1.25 million words) and sometimes they came in other languages (like _Artamène ou le Grand Cyrus_ by Georges de Scudéry which is considered the longest novel ever published at almost 2 million words. It was in French, and Harley had refused to help him. So he knows French, now. Or at least how to read it.). But the books she brought him where always long, and Spencer spent more time reading them than he'd ever spent on any other book before.

"Thank you," Spencer told her, tucking it into his messenger bag and moving her purse back to her side. He watched her hand move with the pencil she was using, filling in the details of the girls face, the pair taking sips and gulps of coffee as the time passed. Her nails, which she kept long enough that they were likely just over the allowed length at the Jeffersonian, were freshly painted a navy blue. Like him she'd grown up on the West Coast, only she'd been in San Diego as opposed to Las Vegas. And she always had a wave stenciled into the design in recognition of that. Today that wave was silver. "How about you? It must be nice being back at the Jeffersonian after two months in Guatemala. Sorry about not picking you up from the airport, by the way."

"I'm okay. There's only so much time you can spend in a Guatemalan mass grave before you stop feeling okay about being there," Harley shrugged, finishing her drawing as Spencer downed the last of his coffee. "I have a lot I can learn from Dr. Brennan, and it's always interesting doing field work and getting to research the culture and habits of the people whose bones we're looking at. But now we're going to be working more with the FBI, working with bodies that haven't been dead as long as the ones we normally look at. And watching Dr. B and Agent Booth work together is entertaining. He picked us up from the airport. He put out an FBI hold-for-questioning on us."—cue eye roll—"Anyways… Have you passed your gun qualification yet?"

Spencer glared at Harley, and she smirked in return.

"So, I'll take that as a no. When you going to let me take you to the range?" Harley asked, her smile very shark like. While Spencer had been raised by a paranoid schizophrenic, Harley had been raised by family of… gun enthusiasts. She claimed to have a better shot with rifles than hand guns, but Spencer had never seen her shoot a gun, and, quite honestly, wasn't sure he ever wanted to. But that didn't dissuade Harley from wanting to take him to a shooting range. Seeming to read the expression on her face, Harley deflated a little. "Will you at least let me set you up with some lessons with a friend of mine?"

"If I don't pass this next one," Spencer reasoned, "I'll consider it."

She rolled her eyes, pulling her trusted Polaroid camera from the bowels of her purse and snapping a shot of the skull before sticking the picture to the top of the sketch paper, and writing the skulls identification number on the white part at the bottom of the Polaroid. Then, as was tradition, Harley passed the sketchbook back to him as she put back the camera and put the skull back in the box she transported it out here in. "Can we at least start a standing paintball date? It could be really beneficial for learning to shoot a moving target. Plus I miss playing paintball, and I know few people I'd even think to ask to go with me. Please, please, please, Spencer?"

"I'll think about it." Spencer flipped through the pages, staring at the faces she'd drawn in correspondence to the photo of the skull at the top of each page, as Harley rolled her eyes at his response. A few pages had sceneries instead of faces and could have just as easily been an illustration taken from the page of a children's book. Those few sceneries where the only pages where she'd used color. Some of the pages lacked the photo, meaning they were people she knew. Some he could identify because he knew them as well, such as the old woman who lived across from him, or the elderly couple that Harley lived next door to. Some of the people he could only identify due to the names at the top of the page. Those where the people she worked with.

Almost one hundred pages of back to back sketches and drawings.

Spencer handed it back to Harley when he was done and she packed it away into her purse, before she pulled the socks she was wearing off and replaced them with her heels. She tucked away her socks, and slung her bag over one shoulder as Spencer stood up from the steps. He helped her to stand on the step above him and then grabbed the box with the skull in it as she grabbed their coffees, and tucked her clip board under her arm. She then took the box from him, and adjusted it in her grasp. "Well, Dr. Isley. Where do you want to go?"

Harley smiled at him as she carefully looped her arm through his, careful of the coffee cup she held in that hand. "Well, Dr. Reid, I do believe you owe me a dinner date. Why don't we start there?"

Then before Spencer could respond Harley gave him a chaise kiss on the lips and ran back into the Jeffersonian to put the skull and clip board back in the lab, before slipping back out, sans the skull, the clip boards, and Spencer's empty coffee cup, and grabbing Spencer's hand, her purse, her own coffee cup, and a full-face covering helmet in hand. She reached up further onto her toes than she already was in her heels, and gave him a long, searing kiss to make up for all the ones they'd missed over her last few months in Guatemala.

Harley and Spencer weren't the type of people to make big deals of kissing each other, wither in public or otherwise. Mostly, it was just proximity to each other, snuggling and cuddling, that took place between them. They liked being close to one another, lap sitting, or wrapped in each other's arms. They kissed, as well as doing other things. They just didn't do it with lots of frequency. Partly because of his work with the BAU, partly because she always took a few months a year to do work outside of DC, and partly because it just wasn't in their nature to be so physically affectionate. Neither of them felt the desire to have sex constantly or even at a consistent time schedule. They had sex when they had sex, but their mutual desire to stop working or doing things to have sex happened very rarely.

Spencer smiled at her as they began to walk away from the Jeffersonian, arm in arm, off to where Spencer had parked. It didn't interrupt they're rhythm as they walked, and soon her own cup was thrown away in a trash can similar to the other. When they reached the motorcycle that he'd driven here in, he packed away Harley's purse and his messenger bag into the small compartment space in a cavity of the bike, taking out his own helmet first. He turned the bike around so that it face the street and then put on his helmet. He got on first with Harley climbing on afterwards, wrapping her arms around him the same way she had multiple times before. Harley had even painted his helmet with a Doctor Who theme, while hers red and gold for Iron Man.

As they took off from the parking lot, Spencer didn't even think of what Morgan's reaction would be if he could see him now.

 _"And he knew that at that moment, they understood each other perfectly, and when he told her what he was going to do now, she would not say 'be careful' or 'don't do it', but she would accept his decision because she would not have expected anything less of him."_  
― J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_

* * *

 **Authors Note: Thank you so much for reading. I'd really appreciate any feedback you can offer. Wither you liked my story or not. If I should continue. Please review. And I hope you all have a nice day/night.**


	2. Chapter 2: November 2005

**Authors Note: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **P.S.: I am dyslexic. Any grammatical error is caused by such dyslexia, and after so many years of failing grammar, I could give less of a shit about how you feel about it or what I did wrong. If you want to correct my facts or translations, I welcome it. If something I wrote doesn't make sense, I welcome your opinion. Spelling and grammar errors? Not so much. If it bothers you, find something else to read.**

* * *

Chapter 2: November 2005

" _Well, we all make mistakes, dear, so just put it behind you. We should regret our mistakes and learn from them, but never carry them forward into the future with us."_

― L.M. Montgomery, _Anne of Avonlea_

Spencer pulled away from the team after walking into the bullpen at the BAU offices in Quantico, having just gotten back from the hostage situation on the train in El Paso. They still had about an hour of time to burn before they could go home, and Spencer had every intention to power through some paper work. Well he had, until he'd received a 911 text from Harley just as the elevator doors closed on him and the team to take them up to the BAUs floor. Harley only ever texted 911s for one reason, and Spencer suddenly hoped she'd changed MOs for this one.

She hadn't.

"Oh, god, Pen," Harley gasped out as soon as she picked up. The phone had barely rung once when she'd picked up, after Spencer called her, having removed himself to the break room of the BAU. That meant she'd completely stopped whatever she had been doing to wait for his call. Harley was in hysterics, sobbing, and borderline hyperventilating. He could hear her breathing over the phone, and could almost envision the tears in her eye. Spencer winced. Harley was mid panic attack and in need of an anchor to ground her. "I don't know if we did something bad or good or what, but it feels absolutely awful, and we just played right into his stupid little game."

"Harley," Spencer sighed. "I need you to calm down and explain it to me a little. I don't understand what's going on, but I'm sure whatever you did wasn't the wrong thing to do."

"Howard Epps was supposed to die today and I just helped prevent that from happening," she cried, her breathing shallow and rapid. "If we had just been twenty minutes later, he'd be dead and where he belongs. But no, we had to go digging, and we played right into his stupid little plan. And I just feel awful about it, Pen."

"I don't understand," Spencer told her.

"You probably will tomorrow when you're asked to profile him," Harley snipped. "Wright wasn't Epps only victim. We found that out when we went looking into the case and found out that the victim was killed elsewhere so we just had to go and track that down, and now Epps gets his stupid stay of execution, so we can look into the two other bodies we found with the murder weapon. We played right into his plan, Pen. That monster should be dead right now, and because of us, he's going to continue to live."

"Harley—"

"He killed two other girls, _that we know of_ , so now we get to identify two other girls, and two other families get to be told their daughter are never coming home," Harley explained, her sobs only seaming to intensify. "I hate him, Pen. I don't even believe in the death penalty but he makes me wish we'd have just let him die. And he's making me wish there's a hell just so he can go there! I'm supposed to believe that God can forgive anyone, but I really hope Epps gets smitted."

Spencer closed his eyes, rubbing one hand on his temple. There was only one way to try and calm her down right now that would work now. He could wait out the storm and let her calm down on her own, which could take a while, or he could try and drive to her and calm her down that way. Although by the time he got to her, she'd probably have calmed down, and his showing up would only be a setback. Which left only one other option. "Harley, I need you to stop talking and just listen to me as I talk."

And then from memory, Spencer began to quote, page for page and line for line, The Picture of Dorian Gray, listening to her as she stopped crying and her breathing calmed down. Distraction worked wonders, and Spencer found that if he talked calmly enough for a long enough time he could calm her down. He could try to reason with her, but that was easier done in person when he could hold her. Spencer continued to read the book to her by memory, even as he returned to his desk and got questioning glances from his team mates. He continued for the next half hour, filling out paper work as he continued telling the story to Harley over the phone. He even smacked Morgan's hand away when he tried to sneak his files into Spencer's pile.

"How long has it been since you slept?" Spencer asked when he knew Harley was relatively okay again.

"Over 48 hours. We were on a limited time schedule. Epps was on death row. Now he's not."

Spencer rolled his eyes. She just had to go back to the stresser. "And when did you eat last?"

"Spencer…"

"Dr. Isley."

"Can you come pick me up," Harley sighed after a pause. On top of having a panic disorder and dyslexia, Harley had hypoglycemia, which meant she has low blood glucose levels and had to be very conscious of the frequency and nutrition in her meals. She often skipped meals for one reason or another (mostly because she'd get lost in work and not realize how much time had passed. She wasn't a good estimator when it comes to time frame), and Spencer could guess she'd probably skipped several at this point. Which means she's probably suffering from a headache, shakiness in her hands, nausea and possibly blurring vision. All of this could lead to unconsciousness, but he could guess that she'd probably grabbed a stick of cheese or a protein bar at this point and was laying down until her symptoms subsided. But it was probably a good idea that she not drive right now. The fact she'd likely been pushing through her symptoms for a couple hours was concerning, but then, he didn't know if anyone she'd worked with had bothered to stop for lunch.

"Yeah, I'll be there as soon as I can." Spencer looked at his watch. He had fifteen minutes left, but he'd finished most of his paper work, and if he explained the importance behind it to Hotch, he might just be able to leave work now. "See you soon, dolcezza." _(honey/sweetheart/sweetie)_

"Grazij. T'amu." _(Thank you. I love you.)_

_._._._._

Spencer had showed up at the Jeffersonian in his old, beat up, blue car and parked in the garage. It was more than an hour after he'd left work, but he'd called to have food delivered to Harley before he'd left so she was probably okay on the blood sugar front. On the not having slept in more than two days, it was still not a good idea for her to drive. He walked to the Medical-Legal lab and found her leaning up against the steps of the platform. She had a large stuffed bear in her grasp that if it wasn't stuffed she'd have likely squeezed the life out of by now.

Her head was leaned against the railing and she looked up at him with a small smile when he stepped closer. Her hair was covered by a teal beanie, her shirt was rumpled instead of cleanly pressed, and he could tell that her nail polish was chipped. Her make-up was down to a line of eyeliner around her eyes and her mascara, and her usual heels had been replaced by a pair of Keds she'd probably kept stashed in her purse. Said purse was slumped next to her feet.

"You ready to go?"

Harley nodded, standing up, grabbing her purse, and tucking herself under his arm as they began walking out of the lab. Spencer squeezed her arm, drawing her closer to his side. Any closer and they'd probably become three legged Siamese twins. He took her purse from her, letting her just carry the teddy bear she'd probably gotten from the trunk of her car. Harley didn't speak as they walked past her dark blue 2003 Ford Mustang SVT Cobra, and she didn't comment when Spencer pulled the passenger side door of his car open for her. She just settled in with her with her teddy bear in her lap, and pulled her seat-belt across the both of them. Spencer found it comical that she got on better with animals, stuffed animals, corpse, and kids in ways she really couldn't with adults. The opposite of him. Which isn't to say she doesn't get along with adults, most love her, but she couldn't empathize with them and she really didn't like talking to anyone between the ages of 18 and 80. Unless they were related to her. She wasn't an adult person (like a people person, but strictly just adults).

Spencer shut the door to his Volvo Amazon P130 122S circa 1965/1966 and crossed over to his side of the car. It had been a commonly used police vehicle in the UK at one point, and his mother had driven it for the majority of his childhood. The outside of it wasn't much, but under the hood it was as well maintained as Harley's cousin Giovanni (a diesel and precision car mechanic, which in Harley's words was "just a more professional way of saying he never out grown his childhood toy collection of hot wheels and Tonka Trucks") could keep it, seeing as Spencer often drove with Gio's favorite cousin in his car. That didn't really stop Gio from rolling his eyes at the color every time he looked at it.

"You want to go get ice cream?" Spencer asked, turning to look at Harley as he turned the key over in the ignition. Harley looked over at him, and gave him a small smile.

"Yeah, let's do that," Harley nodded. Spencer backed out of the parking spot and started driving out of the parking garage. "Please don't get us killed before we get ice cream. I can live with it if we die in this car after ice cream. Well, not really, but still. I couldn't live with it if we died before getting the promised ice cdeam."

Spencer laughed. He knew he wasn't the best driver on four wheels, although he was a better than decent driver on two. Part of this was a led foot, and part of this was due to the person who'd taught him to drive. And Harley took great pleasure in reinforcing this knowledge. Spencer usually reminded her that she didn't drive like a good driver either (more street-racer meets some good old Italian road rage than slow granny), but her mood seemed to have improved, so he wasn't going to piss her off by making a remark about her own driving skills.

Spencer drove them to Dolcezza, an ice cream shop that made gelato in Georgetown. Harley commented that it wasn't Italian, but he figured after all the time that she'd spent in Italy and in an Italian family, she was sort of spoiled when it came to gelato. Not that he'd tell her that. She knew where to plant her elbow in his ribs to cause the most amount of pain that a five foot nothing, not even a hundred pound woman could manage. Which was considerably better than what most of the general population could manage. Harley had had to learn to survive with predominantly male cousins that liked to steal her food, and the elbow jabs where likely a byproduct of that that had been perfected by studying anthropology.

The walked in, got some gelato, and took a seat at one of the tables. Harley had left the teddy bear in the car, comfortably seated in her spot.

"So, what happened?" Spencer asked, scooping a spoonful and taking a bit.

"His stupid lawyer came, asking Dr. Brennan to look into his case, and of course she did. And by the end of it, we found out the victim had been with her boss right before her murder in a parking lot at the place she was found, that she'd been killed somewhere else, and we'd even had the poor girl exhumed. Then Brennan and Booth went to the place we assumed she'd been killed to find the murder weapon and ended up with two more dead girls between the ages of 18 and 26. Making Epps not only the murder of a young girl, but the serial killer of several," Harley explained, swirling her spoon around in her gelato. Spencer hated that because Harley always seemed to talk more with her hands than her words, and swirling her spoon around wasn't the same as the exaggerated movements he'd grown used to and, quite frankly, adored. It just wasn't normal Harley behavior, and he immediately hated it. "I hate lawyers. So, what happened in El Paso?"

"Elle got caught on a train with several other passengers that a paranoid schizophrenic held hostage with Elle's gun," Spencer shrugged. "Not that interesting."

Harley gave him a look, knowing he was holding back. Spencer sighed in exasperation. Of course she could read him that well.

"I boarded the train to 'remove' a microchip from the unsub without a gun or a vest," Spencer added with a mild shrug.

Harley laughed, leaning back in her chair. "Of course you did."—then leaning forward and pointing both hands at him in gun shapes and proceeding to pretend to take shots at him—"Next time you do that, I'll kill you myself."

Even though he knew she wasn't kidding, Spencer still smiled at her as he took his next bite, happy to have the normal Harley back.

"So for New Year's I say we have some fun in Vegas," Spencer smirked. That was the plan anyway, going to see his mother over New Year's. They were spending Christmas with her family in Jersey and possibly Boston, like they had for the last three years. Well the Jersey part of that. They'd only gotten up to Boston in one of the three years. Spencer loved it. The Italian side of her family was a riot on Christmas Eve (as well as the rest of the year, but Christmas was the only time they _all_ came together).

"Like what? See some shows, get a couple thousand to bring home from the casinos, and get carded at a few bars?" Harley asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Go go-carting, ride some rides. Maybe go to a shooting range," Spencer grinned. "Not the gondolas though."

Harley laughed a full body laugh, where her head rolled back, and her body shock. She obviously was thinking of the same thing he was. Their one and only trip to Venice together when she'd taken him as her date to a cousin's wedding. Spencer hadn't liked gondolas since. "You poor baby."

Spencer wouldn't have been offended but she used that really patronizing tone she usually reserved for her cousins after she'd injured one of them. She'd never used it with him before, and Spencer found that he really didn't like it when she used it with him now. He glared, which only intensified her laughter. After a while he just smiled, liking the fact that she was back to normal after earlier.

When they left thirty minutes later, Spencer drove to Harley's apartment which was closer than his. Spencer lived in a second floor one bedroom apartment that was small, old, and sparsely furnished outside of the multiple bookshelves. The bedroom was used more as an office/library, and the couch Gideon had talked him into buying (probably in the hopes of him inviting company over) worked as a pretty good substitute for a bed. And the elevator only worked sporadically. He had a small black cat named Schrodinger, who only really came out of hiding for food and when it wanted to annoy the crap out of whoever was in the apartment. Or if Harley came to the apartment because that damn cat enjoyed watching her.

In contrast, Harley lived in a large corner loft in a nice building not that far away from DC. Harley lived a few floors up, with one bedroom, lots of open space, an open loft, and had lots of large windows. She had exposed brick walls, and any wall that wasn't brick was painted a soft cream. She owned a mini-golden doodle, named BC for Black Canary, which was the runt of its litter and only weighed about 15 lbs. Its hair was wavy, and light brown, and it didn't shed. And it preferred to sleep on Harley rather than anywhere else in the apartment. The dog loved Harley to bits, but to be fair, it loved anyone who was willing to give it a few scratches and a treat. Most of her furniture was constructed by her cousin Antonio (a master carpenter among other things) and his wife, Carmen (an artist who often used wood as one of her big mediums). While Spencer's apartment had the feeling of an old library, Harley's was more bohemian in style with lots of colors, light, and warmth. Harley had a way of making people feel at home when they came in.

Spencer walked with Harley into her apartment, and got greeted at the door with a couple yips from BC. She wasn't a noisy dog, by any means. But she growled at things she doesn't like, bark at people she hates, yip in excitement, and howl like she's trying to sing along to music. She's also basically a real life teddy bear, except for the being a dog part of things. Harley didn't bother turning on the lights, instead walking down the twelve foot long hallway, rounding the corner to walk along the wall until she got to the large French doors to her bedroom. She pushed open the doors with Spencer and BC following behind her and striped down to her underwear, picking up an over-sized shirt from the foot of the bed to put on over her panties. Spencer turned the light on as Harley waltzed into her bathroom. Two walls where brick, the wall to Spencer's left with the door to the bathroom and closet was cream, and the door into the bedroom was almost entirely made of glass. The bed in the middle of the room faced out into the apartment. It was a low platform, queen-sized bed with a head board made of open books. The comforter spread across bed was multi-colored with a Tibetan mandala in the center. There were lots of pillows on the bed, and a trunk stuffed full with more pillows and blankets at the foot of the bed. BC's bed was situated on top of that trunk and she had a few scattered toys on the bottom.

While the rest of her apartment was nearly spotless, Harley's bedroom was much more relaxed. Most of her discarded cloths ended up in the hamper, and they'd all end up in the hamper before Harley left her house again. Pillows would end up scattering the floor when she went to bed but would be piled back on in the morning. And all of BC's stuff had free range to scatter all over her room.

Spencer went to the dresser over by the windows that he kept some of his things in for situations like tonight. They each spent a lot of time in one another's apartment when they were both in town at the same time while still maintaining their own spaces. They had no desire to move in together this young in life, and this way Harley could live somewhere closer to her work and Spencer closer to his.

Spencer pulled off his cloths and put on a pair of pajama bottom. He joined Harley in the bathroom, going pee as she cleaned of her make up, and then went to the bed and laid down. A few minutes later, Harley joined him, depositing BC on the doggy bed. The dog tried wedging her way between them, which was hard considering Harley was basically laying across his chest, and Harley used her foot to push the dog back towards the foot of the bed. It didn't matter. Like a baby, BC would wedge her way between them in the night and hog the bed. It was an asshole move, but Spencer's pretty sure the dog doesn't care at all. Spencer stared up at the glow in the dark stars she'd patterned across her ceiling in constellations as Harley stared out the large windows at the building across from her. She stretched a hand across his abdomen, splaying her fingers as he rubbed a hand along her back.

"Do you ever see us getting married?" she whispered, her breath running along his chest.

"I never questioned the inevitability of it," Spencer shrugged. "I don't see myself spending the rest of my life with anyone else. No one else who matches my intelligence and understands the job like you do."

Harley snorted, flicking his stomach softly.

"You know me better than anyone else. You're okay with how often I'm out of town, and someone else would probably require that we have more sex. And we have fun together. You laugh at my jokes, and you understand my sarcasm in ways no one else does. Plus I really don't want to learn to live without you," Spencer smiled, straining his neck to kiss the back of her head. "You're kind of a fantastic girlfriend."

Harley smirked against his chest, rolling her head a little to kiss his exposed skin. "Say it."

"What's the magic word?" Spencer teased.

"Please," Harley whispered.

"No, I'm sorry the magic word was Abracadabra," Spencer laughed, earning another less gentle flick to the abdomen. "Sometimes you're the most insanely difficult person to deal with, and on top of that, you're pretty imperfect. Which makes me love you more than I ever thought possible."

Harley smiled, looking up and kissing him on the lips. "I like the fact you manage to make me laugh and smile even when I'm trying to be cranky, and the way you put up with me in my worst moods. I love you more than I'd ever thought I'd be capable of loving another human being. Which is pretty impressive, considering I never really envisioned myself being in love."

Spencer grinned before moving to sit up and pushing the comforter down so that they could sleep under it instead of on top of it. Harley followed him under.

Harley didn't put sheets under her down comforter so it was only the comforter and the fitted sheet on the bed.

In the morning, Spencer would drive his car back to his building and take the subway to work, and Harley would get a friend to give her a ride to the Jeffersonian. They'd go their separate ways, potentially for the rest of the day, potentially for a week. But they were okay with that. That was how their relationship functioned. How it had always functioned. And it wasn't changing any time soon, they both could tell you that.

What they had wasn't normal or perfect or anything other than odd, but it worked. And either way, they like their relationship the way it was

And as long as it continued to work for them, that was all that mattered.

" _When you're in love, you're capable of learning everything and knowing things you had never dared even to think, because love is the key to understanding of all the mysteries."_

― Paulo Coelho, _Brida_

* * *

 **Authors Note: Thank you so much for reading. I'd really appreciate any feedback you can offer. Wither you liked my story or not. If I should continue. Please review. And I hope you all have a nice day/night.**


	3. Chapter 3: December 2005

**Authors Note: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **P.S.: I am dyslexic. Any grammatical error is caused by such dyslexia, and after so many years of failing grammar, I could give less of a shit about how you feel about it or what I did wrong. If you want to correct my facts or translations, I welcome it. If something I wrote doesn't make sense, I welcome your opinion. Spelling and grammar errors? Not so much. If it bothers you, find something else to read.**

 **REALLY IMPORTANT: This chapter is based off of an episode of Bones, so I'm sorry ahead of time if you haven't watched that show. But I was re-watching the series and the idea of having Spencer spend a Christmas with a bunch of people who for the most part have and equal intelligence was entirely to cool to pass up. Especially when you counter in that they're all trapped at the Jeffersonian solving a fifty year old murder case. If you don't like that, you defiantly don't have to read it but it think having Spencer bond with these people would be a cool idea, especially because it opens it up for him to help them with some of the serial killer cases they encounter throughout the series.**

* * *

Chapter 3: December 23, 2015

" _We're all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness—and call it love—true love."_

― Robert Fulghum, _True Love_

It was the day before Christmas Eve and Spencer had come to the Jeffersonian to pick up Harley and attend the Jeffersonian's Christmas party for maybe an hour. Tomorrow they were driving up to New Jersey to spend Christmas Eve with her wild and crazy Italian/Sicilian family, so they couldn't stay out too late or risk not getting to her grandparent's house in Trenton by the time they'd promised her Nonna. After spending Christmas Eve with the Italian half of Harley's family, they planned on driving up to Boston sometime around midnight to spend time with the Irish half of her family on Christmas Day, meaning whatever amount of sleep they managed tonight was even more vital. Or at least it seems that way in theory. It was crazy and complicated, and in the past three years of making that same plan of going up to Jersey and then Boston, they'd actually only gone to Boston once. The Italian half of her family was much closer and more important (to Harley) than the Irish half. And then a week later they'd been in Las Vegas to spend New Year's with his mom.

For now though, she'd taken him into a lab where two men were playing with a robot one of them had built on one of the tables used to examine bones in a lab she'd told him she and Zack, Dr. Brennan's other assistant, used. She'd wanted to check on Zach's progress with the robot before they left for the company Christmas party. After explaining that Zack was working on PhD's in both Anthropology and engendering, Spencer had agreed, wanting to see the robot for himself. They'd come into the room facing the two men, though neither of the two men had noticed their entrance.

"Stop! Stop!" the younger of the two instructed the robot, which had the opposite effect on the robot. Instead, it began to move faster and even do a somersault. This man was around their age, with shaggy, longish, brown hair, and what Harley called a baby face. He had on a red striped long sleeved button up left open over a red shirt and a pair of jeans where his Jeffersonian ID where clipped to on his right side. Harley had explained him as being socially stunted, mildly autistic, and around their level of intelligence. This all combined to identify him as Zack Addy, the other lab assistant. "Turn!"

Instead, the robot stopped entirely. Zack's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Your robot reminds me of you," the other man, this one with curly hair and a beard, laughed, looking at his accomplice. He was shorter than Zack and thus had to look up to look at him. His arms where crossed over his chest. He had on a dark blue long sleeve that was pushed up to his elbows, a dark green vest open over that, and a pair of jeans with the Jeffersonian ID clipped to them the same way as Zack's. There was a watch on his left wrist and a rubber band on his right. Spencer identified him as Jack Hodgins. "You tell it to turn it stops. You tell it to stop it turns. You ask it to take out the garbage, it watches reruns of Firefly."

"After I fix the voice recognition protocols, this is going to blow those gomers at MIT away," Zack told him going over and picking up the small toy sized robot. Hodgins went over to some chemistry equipment set up at the other end of the room with only a clear liquid in it, and picked up a large beaker.

"Hey we've got about half a litter of pure alcohol hear. Dump it in the eggnog and we've got the best Christmas party in history," Hodgins told Zack.

"Not after the last fourth of July party," Harley informed them, catching them by surprise and causing the two to turn and look at her. She smiled at the two of them. "Have a merry Christmas you guys."

"You're leaving?" Zack asked, looking up from his robot surprised.

"Yeah, I have a trip up to New Jersey in the morning, and I still want to stop by the party upstairs," Harley explained. "I just wanted to stop by, see how the robot was going and wish you guys a happy holiday in case I didn't see you guys at the party. That alright with you?"

"Who do you have with you?" the other man, Hodgins, asked.

"Zack, Hodgins, meet Dr. Spencer Reid, my boyfriend. He has three PhD's," Harley bragged. "Spencer, meet Dr. Jack Hodgins, who has PhD's in entomology, botany and mineralogy, and Zack Addy who is working on two doctorate right now. Jack is our resident conspiracy theorist, and Zack is Dr. Brennan's other assistant."

The three shook hands before Harley hugged the two men.

"I'll see you two after the holidays," Harley told them with a grin. She'd dressed up for the holiday, wearing a lacy cream blouse under a red cardigan she's rolled half way up her forearm, with a couple of Christmas light necklaces. She had on a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of red heels, with a Santa hat covering her almost bob length hair. To go with it, she'd donned red lipstick. Her Jeffersonian ID was clipped to one of the belt loops of her pants. Just because it wasn't Halloween, didn't mean she wasn't going to dress up for it. In contrast, Spencer was dressed in a red button up under a cream cardigan with a pair of grey pants he'd tucked his shirt into. Harley had even gotten him to wear a green elf hat with ears. "And I left presents for you both in Hodgins' office, so be sure to grab those before you leave."

"Wait up, I'll go down with you," Hodgins' told them grabbing a pair of antlers.

_._._._._

"Have you seen any of the others?" a woman dressed as an elf(ish) bombarded Harley about a half an hour into the party. Harley had introduced him to Dr. Goodman, an archaeologist turned administrator that ran the Jeffersonian, and a few others from various other departments, and Spencer was borderline in heaven with the amount of PhD's he was surrounded by.

The woman who had brown hair and tanned skin, was dressed in a green long sleeved shirt pushed to the elbows with a v-ed neckline, an open dark green (almost black) vest with red buttons on it, a black skirt, black tights, a green and red hat with a red pom-pom on the end and a square green button where it crossed her forehead. She even had a pair of plush, brown, elf shoes with bells on them. Her lips where red, and she looked mildly irritated.

"Sorry, Angela, but last I saw any of them, Hodgins was running away from Crystal from accounting and I'm pretty sure Dr. B and Zack are still looking at bones," Harley shrugged.

"Who is this cutie?" Angela asked, intrigued, looking at Spencer.

"This is my boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid. He works for the FBI in Quantico with the Behavioral Analyst Unit," Harley provided. "I think you might want to get to the lab now. It was looking like Booth brought Dr. Brennan a new set of bones when I left."

Angela Montenegro rolled her eyes and thanked Harley for her help (after complimenting her on her choice of boyfriends) before leaving to retreat to the lab. Seeing a short reprieve from the amount of people they were surrounded by, Spencer suggested they follow her, which lead to the two of them joining Angela, Dr. Brennan, and the FBI agent the Jeffersonian staff worked with, Agent Booth.

"Zack, I need you to find Harley and clean these bones," the woman, easily identified as Dr. Temperance Brennan, called out to the second floor catwalk where Zack and Hodgins's were standing above her. She had light brown hair she wore down. She had on a dark blue lab coat with her ID clipped to the lapel, a chunky necklace, and a pair of latex gloves.

"Now?" Zack asked.

"Ha, burnt," Hodgins smirked, trying to walk away with a cylinder of pure alcohol.

"And I need you to search the cloths for any insect evidence," Dr. Brennan told Hodgins.

"Geese, Bones, merry Christmas!" Agent Booth exclaimed. He had on a black suit with a light blue dress shirt and a thin darker blue tie. He had some stubble on his chin and cheeks, and dark brown hair cut close to his head.

"Okay," Angela interrupted them, taping one of her jingling shoes. Everyone turned to look at her as she stood on the platform with her arms crossed and foot tapping. Harley and Spencer stood just behind her. "You people listen to me. There is a party upstairs, okay? A Christmas party. We're going up there. We're going to talk to some people. We're going to sing some carols, we're going to drink some eggnog. You"—pointing to Booth—"are going to kiss me under the mistletoe. On the lips."—she turned to look at Hodgins and Zack above her—"I might kiss you guys under the mistletoe, too."—then, turning back to Dr. Brennan—"Maybe even you in a festive, non-lesbian manor."—then, turning around to face Spencer and Harley before swiftly turning back around—"I don't know about you two yet. But we are going to that party."

"I'm going to help Zack with the bones, alright?" Harley whispered to Spencer, not wanting Angela to overhear and get angry with her. Spencer nodded, going up to the lab with her, figuring he could grab a book to read on the stairs.

Later, after getting the body to the lab, and getting Spencer situated on the steps with a few books to read a couple of crosswords she kept stored in a drawer with some gloves, Harley pulled on a mask, standing back as Zack prepared the drill.

"Put on a mask," Harley told Hodgins through her mask. She'd left her cardigan and Santa hat with Spencer and traded it for a dark blue lab coat and a pair of latex gloves. Zack and Hodgins had done the same.

"I'm going to take a few core samples," Zack elaborated, holding up the drill for emphasis.

"Okay!"

Harley turned her back, looking at the cloths and other belongings they'd found on the body. She didn't notice Hodgins pick up the glass of eggnog, nor did she see him pull away his mask to drink it. She turned around as they began being covered in bone dust, and her eyes widened, her lips squeezed together, and her forehead scrunched. She was mad. But as the biological contamination alarms went off, all of that subsided as concern overwhelmed her. Hodgins, Zack, and Harley looked one another in the eye, before making a mad dash for the single decontamination shower in the room. The three of them tried squeezing through the door all at once, preventing any of them from getting into the shower until Hodgins finally had enough.

"Zack!" He pushed the younger man in first, followed quickly by Harley and then himself. It was a tight fit as the three stripped of their cloths and tried not to think of the fact she was in a shower with two naked men who were not her boyfriend.

Outside of the lab, on the stairs between the two levels, Spencer ran over to the landing where Dr. Goodman, Dr. Brennan, and Angela where standing as Agent Booth stood near the door.

"What's that?" Booth asked.

"Biological contamination," Dr. Goodman explained, just as they heard Hodgins yell Zack's name.

The doors to the Medico-Legal lab began to shut, and Booth turned around trying to stop them. "Whoa!"

"The doors seal automatically," Angela explained. "Don't worry about it."

Spencer came around the landing to stand between it and the door as the party on the landing began coming off.

"What do you mean don't worry about it?" Booth asked, coming away from the doors with his coat draped over one arm.

"There's no use panicking until we know what it is," Dr. Brennan explained.

"What what is?" Booth asked.

"Um, we might know," Harley stated as she, Hodgins, and Zack exited the doors to the lab directly below the one they'd been in. all three of them where only covered by towels. Hodgin's was wrapped around his hips putting a muscular chest and arms on display, while Zack had two, one wrapped around his waist and the other draped over his shoulders. Harley had a towel rapped around her chest, under her arms, and another wrapped like a turban around her head. She kept one hand gripping the ends of the towel together, and the other laid under her bust, one half of a defensive arm crossing.

"I cut into the fallout-shelter bones and the bio-hazard alarm went off," Zack told them as Hodgins put his hands on his hips, and Harley crossed the group to get her cardigan from Spencer.

"Where you conforming to autopsy protocol?" Dr. Goodman asked.

"Two of us were," Zack informed him snidely, glaring as Hodgins who bowed his head.

"The other was drinking an eggnog," Hodgins explained in mild shames.

Dr. Goodman moaned. Booth looked worried but confused.

"Wait, wait, wait," Booth started, turning to look at Spencer. "Who are you?"

_._._._._

"The pathogen is coccidioidomycosis," a man in a Santa suit on the screen in Angela's office told them. Zack and Hodgins had claimed the couch, Angela was standing over by the screen, Dr. Goodman and Dr. Brennan were over at the desk, to the right of the couch, Booth was at the bookshelves to the left of the couch, and Spencer and Harley were sitting on the ground to the left of it, in the far corner of the room. The three who'd been in towels were still in towels, and Harley had her legs crossed in modesty.

"Valley fever?" Dr. Goodman asked loudly as Spencer whispered it to himself and Harley.

"It was picked up in the scanner in the discharge vent at Mr. Addy and Dr. Isley's station," the Santa impersonator explained for clarification, like they didn't know where the pathogen had been released.

"What's valley fever?" Booth asked.

"It's a fungus that can lead to pneumonia, meningitis," Zack explained.

"Spontaneous abortion," Spencer added to the list.

"Death," Harley shrugged, figuring that should be tacked onto the list as well. She smirked at Zack when he turned around to glower at her for getting the last answer.

"You know, there are two species of coccidioides fungi that cause valley fever. These fungi are commonly found in soil in specific regions. The fungi's spores can be stirred into the air by anything that disrupts the soil, such as farming, construction and wind. Or in our case a dill into a bone," Spencer informed the group before the back of Harley's hand hit him squarely in the chest to silence him with a hissed, "Stop it!". Booth gave him an odd look of questioning.

"The alarm sounded shortly after Mr. Addy cut into human bone. That must have been the source," Dr. Goodman explained.

"Was he following autopsy protocol?" Santa asked.

"Of course," Dr. Brennan informed him from her desk. "However…"

"I was… drinking an eggnog," Hodgins admitted.

"And now he's there with you breathing the same air," the man told them, pulling down his fake beard.

"Hey, I got into the decontamination shower with Zack," Hodgins protested loudly. Then more quietly added, "And Harley. Haven't I been through enough hell?"

Spencer turned to look at Harley in confusion, but she rolled her eyes and mouthed "Later."

"Is he contagious?" Booth asked, earning a glare from Hodgins.

"Dr. Hodgins may have inhaled the spores, yes," the man on the screen admitted.

"Okay," Booth stated. "It must suck to be Hodgins right now, but the rest of us, we didn't inhale. So it's okay that I go, right?"

"Dr. Hodgins may have exhaled the spores all over us," Dr. Goodman explained to Booth softly.

"We have no choice but to impose quarantine," the man on the screen informed them. Harley sighed, knowing what came next. She was going to miss Christmas with her family and all of the jokes that came with it. "Valley fever can be fatal. And we can't risk a pandemic. Just calm down and let us handle things from this side."

"Anyone besides me worry that a guy dressed like Santa is in charge?" Booth asked. No hands raise, no chorus of yes's followed, and the silence of the group was the only answer he got.

"Merry Christmas," the man on the screen told them with a large frown before the screen went blank.

"Okay, you know what, if this is fatal, I will shoot all three of you," Booth told Harley, Zack, and Hodgins. Spence pulled her closer to him and looked at Agent Booth in confusion.

"Maybe you three could go get dressed," Angela suggested. The three left the room at her request, Harley taking a little more time to get off the ground.

_._._._._

"Harley and I zapped the bones with ultra-violet light and arranged them in the isolation table so that we won't have to worry about any spores," Zack explained to Dr. Brennan as the three anthropologists (or one anthropologist and two doctoral candidates) stood around the body on the platform. Zack was to the left of the body with his hands in one pair of gloves going into the isolation table by the head and chest. Dr. Brennan stood across from him, and Harley stood next to her on her left, with her hands in the other pair of gloves near the feet. All three of them had on their dark blue lab coats.

"In addition I found that sown into the lining of his clothing," Harley told Dr. Brennan as Zack pulled out a bag from his pocket, and handed to Dr. Brennan across the body so she could look at the baggy with a ring in it.

"A woman's wedding band," Dr. Brennan observed.

"Two tickets to Paris. A woman's wedding band. A picture begins to form," Zack went on.

"We don't form pictures," Dr. Brennan informed him, staring at the ring. "We accumulate evidence. Dental work?"

"Acrylic resins in the interior fillings from the nineteen forties," Zack answered.

"Childhood tibia break. Bad enough that he walked with a limp," Harley continues.

"Also," Zack added, pulling another bag from his lab coat and handing it to Dr. Brennan, "he wore a toupee."

"Doesn't seem to have degraded."

"It's made of a synthetic called Dinelle. It couldn't have looked good," Zack stated.

_._._._._

"This is a cocktail of four anti-fungal drugs, including amphotericin B," the man in the blue biohazard suit standing in front of them explained as another grabbed syringes of medicine that would be stuck into each of their behinds. All of them were in a line, facing the man in the suit who was talking as they prepared to drop their pants, get their butts pinched, and have a needle pushed into one of their cheeks. "Additionally you will be taking orally ketoconazole, fluconazole, and itraconazole."

"That's great. And then we can leaves?" Booth asked as Hodgins started putting his pants back on. Harley shook her head and Brennan gave him a look as the man in the biohazard suit answered. Spencer wished it was that simple. But he already knew the answer.

"We won't know for a couple of days if the fungus took hold in your system."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait, are you saying were stuck here over Christmas?" Booth asked with his pants on the ground as he had a needle shoved into his bum. "Look, you know, I have places to go, I have obligations."

"We all have obligations," Dr. Goodman told Booth, pulling back on his own pants.

"And, trust me, we all have plans," Harley sniped, glaring at Agent Booth in frustration. She hatted missing Christmas in Trenton. She wouldn't be able to laugh at whatever hilarious Santa costume her cousins had come up with. And she wouldn't be able to enjoy all of the home cooked Italian food that came together in a pot-luck fashion with different aunts, cousins, and the like supplying different dishes. And she'd miss the look of shere joy on Spencer's face as all of those events occurred.

"I'm supposed to have Quebec!" Hodgins yelled.

"Hey, whose fault is this?" Angela demanded, turning to look at Hodgins.

"Who forced me to go to the party where I drank too much and had to hide from Crystal?" Hodgins threw back.

"We should have just skipped the party and gone home," Harley hissed as the needle went into her butt cheek. Spencer couldn't help but agree as he flinched at the contact. He really enjoyed Christmas with her family.

"Who never should have cut into a bone with a drunken fool in the room?" Angela asked snidely.

"Who brought us human remains just to ditch a little paper work?" Zack threw down.

"Oh, hey, you're saying that this is my fault?" Booth shot back.

"You knew Dr. Brennan couldn't resist," Harley stated with the accusation burning in her eyes. She really wanted to be in Jersey tomorrow.

"Well, I'd have been able to resist if I'd been in Niger **(A/N: a landlocked country in western Africa that borders Mali, Algeria, Libya, Chad, and Nigeria)** where I'd wanted to be," Dr. Brennan added in, accusingly directed at Dr. Goodman.

"You're blaming me?"

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man in the blue suit interrupted. "We'll have sleeping bags delivered. Please have your loved one call me and we'll set up some sort of safe, quarantine visit on Christmas Eve… Oh, and be prepared for side effects."

"Nausea, fever, insomnia," Spencer listed off, getting looks from the rest of the group, and a nod from the hazmat team. "And in very rare cases, euphoria, dream state, and mild hallucinations."

"I'll take that, please," Angela smiled, raising a hand.

"Early symptoms mimic a common cold," the man in the blue suit explained.

"What if it manifests?" Dr. Goodman asked.

"First treatment protocol involves extremely painful injections into the base of the brain," Zack told the group.

"You know what," Booth started as the bio-hazard smurfs began packing up and leaving, "I never realized how pretty all this shinny stuff is."

"That is not fair," Hodgins and Harley complained at the same time as they all watched Booth stare up at the Christmas lights hung around the lab.

_._._._._

"Tomorrow, I was supposed to leave for Quebec," Hodgins told Spencer and Zack later that night as they all laid on top of autopsy tables in blue sleeping bags. Hodgins was in the middle, with his head near the sink. Zack and Spencer where bundled up in their sleeping bags in the opposite orientation. "You want to know the true meaning of Christmas? It's being inside a 300 year old inn with a French-Canadian misuse with ten feet of snow outside."

"Christmas is heading home to Michigan and heading into the woods with your brothers to cut a twelve foot Christmas tree," Zack corrected him. "And you all decorate it together. Brothers. Sister. Nieces. Nephews. Forty people who all love you and are happy to see you. That my friend is the true meaning of Christmas."

"Nah, I'm going to have to go with the misuse on this one."

Spencer shook his head. "The true meaning of Christmas is going to Nonna Lala's bakery in Trenton along with the fifty plus aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends that all belong to Harley, all pack into one building with a Christmas tree and one long table that wraps around the room with a kids table your still sitting at at 24 because all the grandparents, great-aunts and uncles, parents, and family friends take up all the seats at the adult table. It's the potluck of foods everyone brings and all of Nonna's Christmas cookies. It's having one of Harley's uncles or cousins dress up as some parody of Santa and force everyone to sit on his lap at least once while pulling crazy shenanigans with everyone taking pictures as he does so. And it isn't some normal Santa. Last year, it was Santa and the cross dressing elves. The year before that it was the Santa Bunny. I never experienced Christmas like that until Harley and I started dating. And it's crazy and chaotic, but you'll never be in a room so full of love and laughter anywhere else. The true meaning of Christmas is being with the people who love you and make you happy."

"Is her family going to come down tomorrow?" Hodgins asked.

"She told them not to. To video tape it for her. She told them that it's not Christmas if it's not at Nonna's and that the kids would miss out if they came down. I think her parents might come down for Christmas day though, instead of heading to Boston. She'll celebrate New Year's with them, while I go and visit my mom," Spencer explained.

"Your mom's not coming?" Zack asked.

"My mom lives in Bennington Sanitarium, in Las Vegas. It wouldn't be a good idea to have her come here," Spencer told him. Silence lapsed.

_._._._._

"I know it's against your nature, but," Angela sighed from where she, Brennan, and Harley were laying on the floor, "I need your help"

"For what?" Brennan asked.

"To make Christmas," Angela smiled. The three of them were laying on their backs, looking up at the ceiling in a triangular formation with their heads in the middle, the corners of their pillow bordering each other.

"Why because we're the girls?" Harley asked with a smirk. Angela wouldn't have to bend her arm to get her to comply. She already had plans in motion anyway. Aside from her birth/ween (October 31 just happens to be both Halloween and her birthday, which made her a witch, if anyone asks), Christmas was her favorite holiday. And if she couldn't celebrate it with family, well, she might as well make the most of it. Besides, Spencer deserved to have every Christmas be special after all the years of celebrating it alone or not celebrating it at all.

"Yes," Angela responded, happiness exuding out of her voice. "We have to decorate, and we have to have our own Secret Santa."

"You called it Secret Satan before," Brennan commented, not sounding the least bit excited.

"It's all so tragic," Angela commented, changing the topic. "A cheap wedding ring sown into his suit. Two tickets to Paris. It makes you wonder, who was the girl? Can you imagine what it was like for her, waiting and wondering? Never knowing what happened?"

Harley rolled over, her eyes wide at the enormous no-no Angela had just committed.

"I don't have to imagine," Dr. Brennan said in a tone of voice that squeezed at Harley's barely there heart-strings (yes, she knows those aren't real, but come on…) with the amount of sadness in it.

"What do you mean?"

Harley opened her mouth to answer but Brennan had already turned to look at Angela.

"I'll tell you what I'm going to do for Christmas," Dr. Brennan told her.

"Good, thank you," Angela responded. "At last you decide to take part."

"I'm going to solve a murder," Dr. Brennan announce, before climbing out of her sleeping bag, getting off of the floor, and then leaving her office.

"That wasn't what I meant, Sweetie," Angela said into the void left by Dr. Brennan after the office doors closed.

"Her parents disappeared around Christmas, Ange," Harley whispered, rolling back over onto her side. "But I made a deal with old Hazmat suit that means he's bringing a couple of burners, and a list of ingredients, so we can all have a home cooked, Italian Christmas meal."

"How did you manage that?"

"I promised him a signed copy of a book that no one ever gets a signed copy of."

Harley didn't respond to further questioning, simply smirking until she fell asleep with the Santa hat still on her head, and the smirk dropped into a parted mouth with droll beginning to drop down her cheek the further into sleep she fell.

_._._._._

Spencer woke up, in the middle of the night, and got out of his make shift bed to go down and check on Harley. It wasn't necessary, but Spencer had been spooked about not checking on her at night since they were nineteen. Harley had been on a plane with her parents with her hood all the way over her head and somewhere along the trip she'd fallen asleep. A few hours later, from unknown causes (maybe she wasn't getting enough oxygen with her hood or the way she was sleeping or what) but she'd stopped breathing. It'd later turn out that there were lesions on multiple parts of her brain that caused her to have seizure in her sleep where she'd stop breathing. She'd been on medication to control the seizures, but that didn't stop them all together, until finally at 21, right before joining the Jeffersonian, she had brain surgery to remove the lesions. She didn't have seizures anymore, but she had a dog that borderline sleeps on her as a precaution. But she wasn't home, the dog wasn't here, and Spencer wasn't sure anyone at the Jeffersonian knew about the seizures.

So he went to check on her as a precaution. And that's what he'll continue to tell himself.

He walked past Agent Booth without greeting him. The agent was still riding the effects of the drugs they'd been given and spouting nonsense that Spencer didn't have time for. Dr. Brennan was working on the platform as he passed, and when he entered the office, he noticed that Angela was fast asleep and that Harley was awake and staring at the ceiling.

"Do you want to take your sleeping bag and join me on the lounge upstairs?" Spencer asked quietly. Harley looked at him but rotating her head further back and nodded, quietly kicking her way out of the sleeping bag and collecting her belongings to follow him. They stopped to get Spencer's sleeping bag and pillow and they went to the couches on the landing above the platform. Spencer took one couch and Harley took the other. The glass ceiling above them let them see some stars (whatever stars you could see in DC anyway. It wasn't as magical as the stars in Santa Cruz's mountains or other less populated areas) but they faced towards each other and gave the other one last smile before going to sleep.

When they woke up, men in hazmat suits where bringing in a cart with breakfast on it and several carts that contained most of the things Harley would need to cook a good Christmas Eve feast. The two got dressed in the second outfit that Harley had picked out for them to wear to the party that had ultimately been decided against at the last minute. Harley had on a red velvet Santa dress with a pair of thick, Christmas socks she'd kept stashed in her purse, not bothering to put on heels without having coffee first. She liked to torture herself in those shoes sure, but there was only so much she could bare without having first had coffee. Her Santa hat which had gotten skewed in her sleep got re-adjusted, and the makeup that she hadn't quiet bothered to remove the night before got wiped down to the mascara and the last line of eyeliner circling her eyes. Spencer on the other hand had on had a cream button down under the blue Doctor Who themed Christmas vest that Harley had somehow procured for him. His hair was a mess but he could wait until after getting coffee to deal with that.

They meet Dr. Goodman down at the cart as the hazmat men left. The archaeologist turned administrator had on a yellow button up on. None of them said anything as they began pouring their coffee. There where somethings that just couldn't happen before coffee and polite conversation is at the top of that list.

Spencer watched Agent Booth do pull-ups on one of the exposed metal bars near the stairs as Zack and Hodgins came down the stairs. Booth had on the same pants from yesterday with a tank that had probably been under his shirt. He took his first sip of the warm, caffeinated heaven.

"In some cases of valley fever, separating skin lesions appear," Zack said loudly as he neared the bottom of the stairs behind Hodgins. He had on a dark blue long sleeve

"Can someone in a position of authority please order Zack to shut up?" Hodgins demanded, walking over to the breakfast cart and throwing his jacket over his shoulder. He had on a green t-shirt.

"If you want dinner tonight, shut the hell up, Zack. It's too early in the morning to talk about skin lesions. Why does it have to be so bright?" Harley hissed, taking a sip of coffee before invading Spencer's personal space to bury her face in his vest. He put an arm over her back in turn.

"Coffee. Coffee. Coffee," Angela repeated as she walked up to them in the same plush shoes as the day before with brown pants and a purple wrap on.

"Good morning, Miss Montenegro," Dr. Goodman stated as Hodgins grasped a bagel and Zack took the orange juice.

"Where did this come from?" Angela asked as Booth walked away from the group gathered around the cart after Dr. Goodman passed him a cup of coffee.

"A hazmat team brought it over this morning. Very appetizing," Dr. Goodman sighed. Then turning around to face Booth. "Are you back with us?"

"Yeah, think so," Booth answered with a smile.

"Okay, since we're going to be stuck together for Christmas, we should make the most of it," Angela told the group, garnering an "Oh" from Agent Booth. "We'll decorate this place and exchange handmade gifts."

Angela's smile was so wide it showed almost all of her teeth and produced dimples in her cheeks.

"An excellent idea, Miss Montenegro," Dr. Goodman congratulated her.

"I can get behind that," Zack informed her.

"I'm in," Hodgins stated before shoving another piece of bagel into his mouth.

"As am I," Dr. Goodman agreed. Harley nodded against Spencer's chest, although she had already gotten them all gifts. Spencer nodded because Harley nodded.

"How about Bones?" Booth asked, rejoining the group and getting unanimous negative responses from the group. "Come on, what's the deal between Bones and Christmas?"

"Last night I spun a little story… about two young lovers running away to Paris, but the man never shows up and the woman is left wondering what happened to him. And I say: imagine what that must have been like. And Brennan says: I don't have to," Angela confessed, turning on the sad puppy dog eyes on the group. Harley had rotated in his arm so that her back was towards his chest, and she was mainlining the coffee in her cup.

"Yeah, I… I still don't get it," Booth announces.

"Oh, my god," Dr. Goodman breaths.

"What?' Booth asked.

"Dr. Brennan's parents disappeared just before Christmas when she was 15," Harley informed him. Then, at a much quieter volume she added: "Do your research."

"And she never knew what happened to them," Dr. Goodman added.

"Oh god. That explains a lot," Booth replied. Mumbled acknowledgments and agreements passed through the group.

"Alright, we need a way to choose out Secret Santa's," Angela stated, gearing them to a new topic.

"I can build a random generator," Zack stated.

"Wouldn't it be better to match complimentary people in a premeditated manor?" Dr. Goodman asked.

"I've got seven numbers in my head and seven letters. Tell me the number, I tell you the matching letter," Hodgins decided.

"Are the letters sequential or are the numbers sequential?"

As they began to debate what to do and the lack of an eighth person (and that's why Zack couldn't pick 8), Booth pulled a pad from his pants, wrote the names down. He then ripped them up, put them in a metal jar, and held it out to the group.

"Just pick a name and if you get your own, put it back in," he told them. Everyone told him how good an idea it was as they picked names before heading off their separate ways.

_._._._._

Harley had taken over part of Angela's office to begin cooking Christmas Eve dinner. She was working on a couple of camper burners, with a few pots and a torch. She's made a batch of sugar cookies with the help of Hodgins and a heat lamp. And she was working on homemade pasta sauce for some manicotti. It wouldn't be as good as if the sauce was two or three days old, but she'd added enough wine that it'd still taste good. She was also working on making a batch of her mama's mashed potatoes that where so good you didn't even need gravy. Which she didn't have seeing as they'd be having a small chicken to share that Hodgins was also helping her cook. She also had a special grilled eggplant dish she was working on, and fresh French bread she was working on. And she planned to make her family recipe cream-of-corn soon.

Spencer had gone with Angela, Hodgins, and Zack to try to figure out some decorations they could put up, so Harley was alone when Booth showed up.

"Hey, Booth," Harley greeted him, stirring the pot with her sauce in it.

"Hey," Booth replied slowly. "Look, I got Spencer for the Secret Santa thing, and I was hoping you could give me a few ideas."

"Teach him to shoot?" Harley shrugged. "He likes reading, hard brain puzzles, and geek-dom. And me. And magic. He's been kicked out of most casinos in Vegas because he counted cards to get enough money to pay off his student loans and still pay for his mom's medical bills. And he works at the BAU with a guy like you: fit, experience, and a jock. Thank you for telling me you have a kid by the way."

"I've still got nothing," Booth told her.

"I'll trade you? You take Hodgins and give him the answers to one of his conspiracy theories, and I deal with finding a present for Spencer?"

"Nah, I think I should stick with my own," Booth told her, moving to leave.

"Wait, wait, wait! Come taste!" Harley demanded.

Booth came over and took the small metal spoon full of sauce. He put it in his mouth and moaned. "That's good. That's… wow."

Harley laughed as she watched him walk away.

_._._._._

"So if Lionel was indeed a coin collector that explains the levels of lead and nickel in his bones," Hodgins stated as they all sat around the light table with all of the food Harley had made gathered in front of them They'd all complimented her on her cooking and Harley had smiled. With all her aunts, her mama, and her Nonna, she wasn't all that great in comparison, but it was nice to hear all the same.

Booth sat at one end, Dr. Goodman on the other. Then Hodgins, Angela, Dr. Brennan, and Zack sat along one edge of the table and Spencer and Harley sat in the middle of the other. Seeing as Spencer is right handed and Harley is left, they sat closely next to each other so the others wouldn't notice their hand holding under the table. It wasn't that they didn't want the others to see, it's just private.

"When do they stick the needle into your brain?" Zack asked Dr. Brennan.

"I sneezed because the air is dry. It's not valley fever," she informed him tiredly.

"Any other symptoms?" Dr. Goodman asked. "Headache?"

"Any fowl smelling—"

"Not at the dinner table, Zack," Harley glared from across the table. If she could, she'd have kicked him. Or stabbed him in the hand with her fork like she'd done to her cousins many times in the past when they had tried to take food from her plate.

"Look, she sneezed twice, that's it. Did you find anything else out about the letters?" Booth asked.

"Quite a lot, actually. Yes, they are very, very passionate love letters," Dr. Goodman informed them.

"Careful Lionel had a girlfriend," Booth smirked.

"A girlfriend who was in trouble."

"Pregnant in trouble?" Angela asked.

"Wow, apparently Careful Lionel wasn't so careful," Hodgins stated.

"Unmarried pregnant girl in Oklahoma in the late fifties?" Booth asked, suggest fully.

"You suppose Lionel came up here to procure an abortion?" Harley asked, buttering a slice of bread.

"You know what, this isn't a very Christmas Eve type story," Angela stated.

"Of course it is, the whole Christ myth is based upon the travails of an unwed mother," Dr. Brennan countered. Everyone stared at her.

"Okay, can we just stop bringing up the whole Christ myth thing? Some people believe it's more than just a myth," Booth tried.

"Well, who besides you?"

"That would be me Dr. Brennan," Dr. Goodman stated. "I'm a deacon at my church."

"I do. Christmas and Easter anyway," Angela supplied.

"Although I do believe organized religion is just another political movement designed to control the masses, doesn't mean that God doesn't love me," Hodgins informs her.

She looked at her two assistants who hadn't spoken up. Zack first. "Hey. I'm a rational purist all the way. Unless you talk to my mother. Then, I'm Lutheran."

She then turned to look at Harley who was staring at her food. "And you, Dr. Isley?"

"Everyone in my family is devote Catholic. Accept for my parents and I who are Seventh Day Adventist. Sixth largest international presence, bunch of evangelistic vegetarians? Loma Linda? Some people mistake us for a cult? Two Zodiac victims where Seventh Day Adventists from Pacific Union College, their college in Napa? We don't believe in a hell?" Harley shrugged, trying to see if any of the things she said rang any bells. Hodgins, Booth, and Zack all nodded. "I mean, I question the bible because it's old and it's been translated so many times. But I don't question Gods existence. While there isn't science to prove he exists, it isn't like there's science to prove the counter argument either. And I've seen enough miracles to know that sometimes, there really isn't an explanation."

She looked to Spencer. "I wasn't raise with religious parents. But I go to church with Harley sometimes."

"I can understand why you'd be sensitive, Booth," Brennan starts, changing the topic. "You have a child out of wedlock."

"Sweetie," Angela frowned, disappointed as the rest of the tables occupants stared at her.

"What?" Brennan asked, not understanding what she'd said wrong.

"Uh, um… The letters display a combination of both block and cursive," Dr. Goodman tried, moving the topic of conversation onward. Harley bobbed her head, sort of understanding what he was saying.

"A combination of printing and writing?" Angela asked for clarification.

"It would indicate she may have left school sometime in the second grade," Dr. Goodman explained. "Most white children in those days would have at least obtained an eighth grade education."

"She was African-American?" Harley asked, seeing a new pattern forming in their case. Unwed mother, a woman's wedding ring, two tickets to Paris…

"Well I believe so, yes," Dr. Goodman nodded. Spencer squeezed he hand as a sort of reward for getting the right answer as Harley continued to think.

"Is there any way Lionel wasn't African-American?" Hodgins asked, getting head shakes from Harley and Zack.

"No, no. He was definitely Caucasian," Brennan told him.

"A white man and a pregnant black girl in 1958 Oklahoma," Angela started.

"That was bad?" Zack asked.

"It was illegal," Dr. Goodman clarified.

"In Oklahoma?" Hodgins asked. Spencer nodded.

"Not just in Oklahoma, here in DC as well," he responded. "It was actually prohibited in 24 different states. It wasn't until the Supreme Court case _Loving v. Virginia_ that it was made legal in all states, but that was almost ten years later in 1967. And actually, the last law officially prohibiting interracial marriage wasn't repealed until 2000, but that was in Alabama."

"Then why come here?" Angela asked.

"Three words: tickets to Paris," Harley shrugged. "They couldn't marry here, so they were running away to a place they could get married and live together."

"Visiting hours, folks," a man in a hazmat suit said, coming up behind them. "Who's first?"

"As director of this institution, I claim that right," Dr. Goodman informed them, getting out of this seat and leaving.

"I have a brief announcement. You guys might recognize my dad, but I don't want to talk about it," Angela informed them. "So thanks. Kay. That's all."

"Harley is your family coming?" Booth asked.

"I told them not to," Harley supplied. Then she climbed out of her seat and pulled Spencer along with her. "Come on, there's something I want to do."

Harley dragged Spencer up to the catwalk with her and her trusty sketchbook and they sat with their legs dangling over the edge as the others talked to their families through the glass doors that prevented them from leaving. Harley drew Dr. Goodman and his family in graphite along with Booth and his son. She drew Angela and her father, and Spencer and his mother from memory. While she was watching Zack and his family, she drew her friend as multiple different superheroes. And she drew Dr. Brennan with the people from a picture she remembered that was of Brennan's parents. Spencer watched her draw, finding it amazing how she could get so much details.

"What about you?" Spencer asked. "You're not going to draw yourself with your family?"

"I don't draw myself, Pen. That's a sign of narcissism," she whispered as she began to draw the members of the Medical-Legal lab together with Santa hats on and smiles on their faces. "Plus I really hate the way I make myself look. It's never… right."

"You work with them," Spencer reminded her. "Include yourself."

She glared, but conceded his point. Although when Spencer asked her to draw the two of them, she shoved an elbow in his ribs as he laughed, having anticipated that outcome.

The two left the catwalk and found a lab where they could work on their Secret Santa's. They worked with their backs to each other, seeking comfort in the others presents. Since Spencer was gone so often with the BAU and Harley would go way for months at a time, they almost fused at the hip whenever the other was around. When they finished making their presents, and had wrapped them to the best of what was on hand, they went down to Angela's office and deposited them on the Angelatron. Then, much like the night before, they tucked in on the couches on the landing and fell asleep under the sky.

The next morning when they woke up, Spencer laughed. Her Santa hat that she almost never took off in the weeks leading up to Christmas had fallen off in her sleep and her hair which was about as long as his own was a mess. "Your bed head is insane."

Harley grabbed the compact she used the night before to draw herself among her team, and stared at her refection. "Oh, my god. My bedhead is worse than yours!"

_._._._._

They gathered in Angela's office an hour later, dressed and ready for another day. Harley had managed to fix her hair, they'd all managed to get clean cloths, and now for the fun part.

"Good," Angela stated, watching Dr. Brennan walk into the room, the last of the pack to join. "Okay, everybody. Stand over here."—leading them to the Angelatron—"Close your eyes."—she pressed the buttons to make the hologram Christmas tree she'd been working on appear—"Open you eyes."

"Oh!"

"Merry Christmas!"

"Angela!"

"Well done, Miss Montenegro!"

The Christmas tree in front of them was fantastic, and Spencer pulled Harley close to his, wrapping his arms around her as they looked on, marveling at what they were seeing. Under the tree was all of the presents they had crafted, as well as the presents that Harley had already had for the Jeffersonian staff. And she'd brought her sketch book to distribute the pictures she'd drawn the night before.

Harley stopped Dr. Brennan before she could leave and handed her the picture she'd drawn of the anthropologist and her parents, as well as the one of the Jeffersonian staff. She'd left Dr. Brennan's present on her desk so she didn't worry about that as the anthropologist continued to leave.

They all grabbed their presents off of the table and went to sit down on the couch further into the office. Angela started unwrapping hers first.

"We should be drinking eggnog while doing this," Booth announced.

"I wonder what this is." Angela asked, pulling the red plastic bag off of the framed picture. "Oh, my god. It's beautiful. What is it?"

"It's prettier if you don't know the details," Hodgins told her. Because telling her it was a picture of mold spores would ruin it.

"That is beautiful," Dr. Goodman told her before picking his own up and beginning to open it. "I wonder what it is."

It was a large paper bird.

"This is impressive," Dr. Goodman told Harley. "You made this?"

She nodded, grinning as Zack picked up his present.

"I'm next," he told the group.

"It's from me," Angela told them all as he unfolded it. They all marveled at the picture she'd done in either oil pastels or crayons.

"It's my family!" Zack told them. "And me. Thank you."

Hodgins dug out his present next pulling a carved beetle from the packaging.

"Scarabaeus sacer," Dr. Goodman informed him.

"Sacred scarab," Hodgins breathed. "That is excellently rendered sir. Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Goodman told him as Booth picked up his.

He opened it to find the robot that Zack had been working on. "Wow. Zack, that's a…"

"Self-propelled monotonic unit," Zack nodded.

"Well," Goodman laughed.

"It's a robot," Harley and Hodgins chimed.

"I thought, if we get out of here in time today, you could give it to your son," Zack told Booth.

"Merry Christmas!" Booth told Zack with a smile. "Thanks a lot."

"Aw, Zack," Angela smiled as Spencer picked up his present and began to open it. It looked like one of the FBI's folders for paper work and other things, but when he opened it, it was full of word puzzles and logic puzzles.

"Since you work for the BAU, I know you travel a lot so this way, your team can think you're working while you travel," Booth told him. "I thought it'd be a way for you to relax on the plane."

"Thank you," Spencer told him with a grin. He'd blow through it like no one's business, but he could probably refill it and fill it out while everyone else finished their paperwork. Harley looked on smiling as she grabbed her present. It was from Spencer, and she really wanted to see what he'd come up with. It was a thick blue chunk of silicon like material, but when she pulled it apart it was revealed to be a mold of a skull. "I know how much you like candles, especially of the skull variety. And this way you can make your own anatomically correct ones."

Harley didn't even say anything, she just grinned widely down at it before reaching over and planting one on him. "Thank you." they got a few laughs and cheers from their surrounding people. After wards they opened the presents that Harley had gotten them. They were all made out of wood by her cousin Antonio's wife, who was an artist that like working in wood, glass and ceramics.

Booth got a mini-model wooden Ballista, a piece of Roman artillery that looked like a cross bow on a stand. It had a couple foam slugs to shoot out for his desk.

Dr. Goodman got a few wooden figurines for his daughters to play with.

Zack got a pair of wood framed sunglasses.

Angela got a set of wooden snowflakes with incredicble detail

And Hodgins got a shadow box full of bugs made of wood.

Before they all parted ways, she handed them the pictures she'd drawn for each of them.

"Dr. Isley, you didn't have to do this," Dr. Goodman told her.

"I was raised with a big extended family. In my family, you give gifts to the people your around the most and the people that love you. That's how Christmas works. Sharing the holiday spirt," She told him with a grin as she and Spencer stayed sitting on the ground.

"Well, thank you," Angela smiled. "I didn't know you could draw like this, sweetie."

"Well—"

Before she could stop him, Spencer handed Angela her sketchbook. The artist flipped through it, amazed at what the other girl had drawn. "Wow. Where'd you learn to draw like this?"

"My mom does a lot of work with costuming and make up so she had to learn to draw. And so she taught me, and then we'd go to art classes together to bond. She didn't really know how to raise a genius child so that's how we bonded," Harley explained, accepting the sketchbook back as the others filtered out of the room.

"Did you do the woodwork?" Angela asked, staying behind.

"No, that was Carmen, my cousin Antonio's wife," Harley explained. "Carmen does a lot of 3D art work, and Antonio is a carpenter. They own a shop together in Pleasure Point, New Jersey."

"Well, this is so cool. Thank you. Merry Christmas," Angela told them. "Although I think it's time to get our test results back.

_._._._._

They all gathered on the steps to the platform, watching the two men in blue suits look at the computers scanning their test results. After a while it blinked green.

"Green!" Booth exclaimed. "Is that green as in go or green as in stick a needle in your brain?"

The man in the blue suit pulled the zipper down and took off his helmet. "Merry Christmas."

The buzzer sounded as the doors slid open and they all cheered as they all ran out the door. Spencer and Harley grinned at each other. If they left now, they could make it to Nonna's in time for dinner.

Harley ended up going with his to Las Vegas for New Years, and they had a grand time going to all the attractions that didn't include alcohol or gambling. And they ended up leaving with a few grand more than they'd come with (because while Spencer might not be allowed to play in most of the casinos on the strip, the same rules didn't apply to Harley, even though gambling fudged over some of her Adventist morals).

It wasn't until a few days into the New Year that Spencer asked what had ultimately happened in the case of Lionel Little.

"Brennan got in contact with his girlfriend, Ivy. She and her granddaughter came and talked to her, and she gave Ivy closure and a penny that could pay for her granddaughters med school expenses. He'd been killed for his coin collection," Harley explained. "Ivy had Lionel's daughter in Oklahoma, never married and wound up in a retirement home in Maryland."

Spencer nodded. It was sad, but sitting next to Harley as they ties on ice skates to go skating, he wasn't going to focus too much on that.

 _"Christmas is not a time nor a season, but a state of mind. To cherish peace and goodwill, to be plenteous in mercy, is to have the real spirit of Christmas."_

\- Calvin Coolidge

* * *

 **Authors Note: Thank you so much for reading. I'd really appreciate any feedback you can offer. Wither you liked my story or not. If I should continue. Please review. And I hope you all have a nice day/night.**

 **And please tell me if you enjoyed this chapter of if I should never ever do something like this in the story again. Thank you, you wonderful people.**

 **And a special thanks to** **ahowell1993** **for pointing out a fact error I made in the last chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4: March 2006

**Authors Note: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **P.S.: I am dyslexic. Any grammatical error is caused by such dyslexia, and after so many years of failing grammar, I could give less of a shit about how you feel about it or what I did wrong. If you want to correct my facts or translations, I welcome it. If something I wrote doesn't make sense, I welcome your opinion. Spelling and grammar errors? Not so much. If it bothers you, find something else to read.**

* * *

Chapter 4: March 2006

" _Absence is to love as wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small and kindles the great."_

– Roger de Bussy-Rabutin

After Spencer returned from LA in the wake of Lila Archer and her craziness, he entered his apartment to see he wasn't alone. He'd given Harley a key to his apartment a while ago, when she'd given him a key to hers, and while they did use the keys, he'd never returned from a case to find her in his house waiting for him, without warning. He really didn't know how to feel about this new development. Using the distance between the BAU office in Quantico and the Jeffersonian Institute, his apartment was somewhere around one third of the way between the BAU and the Jeffersonian and Harley's was the reverse. It was closer to her work than his. And she did have to go to the Jeffersonian tomorrow. Although last he'd heard she and Dr. Brennan had been in some desert.

His apartment wasn't all that big, with one bedroom that was mostly used as an office and library. What you could see of the walls was painted an avocado green with white crown molding and floor boards. Hard wood ran through the apartment, except in the bathroom, where there was linoleum tiles. Unlike Harley's apartment which was open, warm, and filled with light, his apartment was dark, almost cramped, and bordered on being just plain cold some days. And he does blame his land lord for that last one. There was a single couch, facing the window, and an arm chair in the corner. In the center of the room he had a desk that was used as more of a kitchen table than anything else. Much like the rest of the apartment, the kitchen was dark and small with a tiny island with room enough for two chairs, basic appliances, the best single serve coffee maker Spencer could find, and a cat food bowl.

His small black cat, Schrodinger, was laying on top of the refrigerator watching Harley cook in the kitchen of his tiny one bedroom apartment. BC, Harley's mini golden doodle ran at him as he opened the door to his apartment. BC isn't a barker, more of a growl and whine about things dog. She gave a few excited yappy noises as she ran towards him, though, her tail was wagging almost as fast as a fan. The significands of her being here wasn't lost on him. If she was here than Harley planned to spend the night. Which meant whatever reason that had brought her here tonight couldn't be too horrible. Right?

Spencer picked BC up, trying to dissuade her for licking his face too much, and walked into the kitchen to see what Harley was up to. She was wearing a pair of yoga pants and a loose tank top with a black beanie covering her hair which was now the a little longer than a bob. She had on her trusted purple reading-glasses, and she was reading this book she'd been reading for ages. It was in German by a man who'd translated Edgar Allen Poe's works from English to German. It was basically the author's tale of the hardship of translating. It was extremely long, and Harley had probably read it several times by now, but he found her reading it often. Considering her own eidetic memory and 2100 words-a-minute reading time, he didn't know why she kept going back to it, but she did. Then again, Harley had a thing for rereading books, especially if she could find them in different languages. She came from an Italian/Irish family with large extended families on the East Coast, and had grown up speaking Italian as well as English. Over the years, she'd added a few other languages to her repertoire, and could likely read more languages than she could speak.

"Chicken Curry Pizza is in the oven with bread knots. Mozzarella cheese sticks are in the microwave," Harley told him when he got close enough, accepting the chaste kiss he gave her in greeting. "Do we need to talk about anything that happened in LA?"

"No," Spencer frowned. "Do you think we do?"

"No plans to leave me for some hot blonde actress?" Harley asked, teasing him as she batted her eye lashes at him and smirked.

"Nope," Spencer smiled, seeing that she was felt like teasing him as opposed to actually being concerned, sitting down next to her after depositing BC on the ground. He found a manuscript on the island in front of him and pulled it towards him to look at the cover page. _Seven Ways to End a Marriage_ , by H S Isles. He smirked, seeing that she'd finished the draft of her book. He'd been hearing her talk about it for the past few months, her next horror story. Harley enjoyed writing horror novels and thrilling detective novels with unresolved endings, which tells you that the manuscript in front of him isn't to a self-help guide or a comedy. No, this one's about a black widow, and one man's search to track her down before she could kill again. She'd already published three other books, one at 18, one at 20, and one at 22. Writing books had paid off her minimal student loans, and had helped pay for her apartment. Most of it, though, either went to a savings account or to animal and children's charities. And it helped pay for their recreational activities.

Harley smiled, closing the book and turning to him. She kissed him on the check in thanks. She swung her legs over, setting them across his lap. "Good. Did you stop at In N' Out? Or get a real burrito?"

Spencer's smile grew wider. Any burrito made in the USA made outside of California (or outside of one of those wrong side of town tiny little Spanish restaurant where someone's grandmother was likely cooking in the back of) did not count as a real burrito in Harley's book. Burritos outside of California where practically ruined in her mind. And In N' Out made the best burgers, at least as far as Harley was concerned. And Spencer figured that belief was mostly fueled by the large absence of In N' Out in her life.

"Yeah. I grew up in Las Vegas. I went to school in Pasadena. I can't simply visit a city with In N' Out without going and getting a Double Double. That's not how the world works, Harley," Spencer joked. He figured that was the problem with Southern Californians. And he'd sort of become one in his years at CalTech. He had after all started there at 12. You got used to everything being so close. Amusement parks. The beach. All the best places to eat. A lack of rain and snow. Mountains with snow. Mexico. It didn't equip you to live anywhere else in the world. The first winter in Virginia was a steep learning curve. And after a while you got mildly homesick. Or majorly home sick, in Harley's case every time winter came around. Or anytime Spencer ended up in the San Diego/Los Angeles area without her. "Are you planning to move in or something?"

He had to ask. There had to be another reason that Harley was here.

"No…" Harley frowned. Then, seeming to get why he asked she shook her head. "No, the pipes burst in the basement of my building and screwed a bunch of stuff up, so I'm staying here until that gets resolved. No, moving in together is something far, far down the road. If that's what you want. But not for years."

"Years?" Spencer asked amused.

"You live closer to your work, in your nice little library, studio. Small, just enough room for one person. I live in my little bohemian oasis loft, closer to my work with just enough room for me and whatever family member is visiting. You have your books, I have mine and I'm sure some of the titles overlap. Just enough to bring up a dispute of whose we keep, if we were to move in together. Petty feuds," Harley smiled, leaning closer to him. "We'd need a bigger place, preferably a house so we wouldn't have to move again if we decided we wanted it to be more than just us. Preferably somewhere in the middle with some nice school district options, again, so we wouldn't have to move if we decided to have more than just us. And then, even if we don't have kids, we'll be in a nice neighborhood with a back yard big enough so that I can get I dog I don't trip over. Right now, though, you don't want the people you work with to know about me, which, by all means, is fine by me, and moving doesn't do well for that. So instead I have a little space at your apartment, and you have some space at mine, and everyone can go to a home that isn't only half-full when the other is gone."

Spencer shook his head as the timer on the oven went off, and Harley moved to take out the pizza. The amount of thought she'd put into this really shouldn't surprise him but it did. And what she said was sound and logical. It might not be as cost effective as living together, but it made it so that neither of them had to file extra paperwork for now. And avoiding extra paperwork is nice.

"Besides, the majority of my extended family is Catholic. With ties to some sort of mob. Us moving in together before marriage wouldn't bode well for your life expectancy… I'd like to have you around for a while, genius," Harley reminded him as she set the pizza and bread knots down on a cooling rack and grabbed two plates before coming to sit back down beside him. "And can you imagine, us having kids right now? People would stare at us in the grocery store thinking we're some teen pregnancy horror story they warn their kids about. Shesh, we still get carded at bars and clubs. Can you imagine us with a kid in public? People would think we were babysitting or something."

Harley thought things out leaps and bounds ahead of most people, but of everyone he knew, he couldn't imagine living without her. While he hadn't told his team about her because he knew they would tell him he was too young for a relationship as serious as the one he and Harley shared (and Morgan would tease him mercilessly), and marriage was still farther off on the horizon, Spencer really couldn't imagine life without her. Marriage and cohabitation was years down the road, but Spencer already knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with the woman at his side right now.

Spencer and Harley collected the dinner portions they wanted and retreated over to the desk/dinner table to eat. They sat down, Harley grabbed his hands to say grace, and they began eating. BC sat down at they're feet looking up at them in hope that they'd share their superior human food, and Schrodinger darted off, likely to hide until he could scare them in the dark.

"So who was the stalker?" Harley asked in between bites of pizza.

"One of Lila's friends," Spencer shrugged. "How was your case in the desert?"

"Oh, you mean out in the desert, miles past where Jesus lost his sandals? That desert? As it turns out, Angela will no longer be vacationing three weeks out of the year there. Her three weeks out of the year boyfriend is dead. He was only her boyfriend for three weeks of the year, over the past five years, totaling up to only fifteen weeks. Can you imagine? I almost wanted to find one of those, but then I remembered your way better that. And you're also not an artist. But we did find the missing girl, which was the only reason they took we with them as an expert in environments, and environmental factors. It wasn't as fun as when I got to go with Booth and Dr. Brennan to LA right after New Year's, though. They hadn't realized that there were coyotes in LA at the time, which is just hilarious. Where did they think all our missing cats go?"

Spencer laughed. It's well known in Southern California, that even the densest populated cities have coyotes. Any cat or small enough dog that goes missing at nigh likely wound up being a nice meal for a coyote or two. They weren't afraid to hop low fences either.

"Oh, and I should mention that I might be going with Dr. Brennan down to New Orleans to help identify remains that floated out of their graves during the hurricane last August. Dr. Brennan wants me to try and sketch as many death-masks as I can to help in the identification process. So this might be a good time to see if I can draw the faces with the decomposed flesh still attached," Harley explained. Spencer looked at her, and then down at his food, debating if it was worth it. He hadn't eaten a home cooked meal in a while, so he ultimately decided it'd be worth it. "Zack is pissed that I'm going and she's leaving him at the lab. But ultimately I have two PhD's already and he doesn't so Dr. Goodman is doing this to try and remind Zack to finish his doctoral theses."

"What about your own theses?" Spencer asked, wanting to redirect the topic of conversation.

"Goodman is helping me apply to the Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command Forensic Science Academy for the last few credits I need, and because identifying remains from World War I and II is kind of my entire thesis. And it will help both the forensic anthropology and the bioarcheology degrees," Harley explained, although she didn't have to. She'd only been talking about applying for the last year. Living in an Irish/Italian family, she'd lost family in every war since World War I. And some of their bodies still hadn't been recovered or identified yet. That was part of her drive to be an anthropologist. Well, there were other reasons too, but that was part of the sum total. "If I get in, I'd be gone for somewhere around four months in the fall."

It didn't hit Spencer like a ton of bricks, or a sledge hammer to the skull. It didn't shoot through him like the desire to breath while downing, nor did it make him want to grab her ankle and anchor her to him. Hearing Harley say she might be gone for around four months, hurt about as much as being pocked with a straw. He didn't like the fact she'd be away from him for months rather than a few days, but it never really hurt him to hear it. It was just something he had to deal with. He was used to her leaving for months. At least this time, it is still within the US (alright, the middle of the Pacific Ocean might not be within the whole of the continent, but it is within the Union).

"I'm so pissed at you!" Spencer told her with a smile. Harley is an adrenaline junky, and any time she can, she goes out and does something incredibly dangerous, and incredibly awesome. And she often roped Spencer into doing them with her. He hadn't liked that fact at first, but like a fungus, doing death defying stunts seemed to have grown on him. He didn't have the same need to go out and find the next high like Harley, but he had to admit, he never came back from a trip regretting it. From surfing to kayaking, sky diving to cave diving, and bungee jumping to zip-lining, every experience was equally nerve racking and exhilarating. And the idea of all the things she'd find to do on Oahu make him incredibly envious. "I'll have to ask Hotch for some time off to visit you."

"How about at the end of my time at JPAC, I'll clear a week of vacation with Goodman, and the two of us can explore the islands?" Harley asked, nudging him with her foot. She was smirking with a raised eyebrow, with a very suggestive look. He understood what she had in mind. Surfing, hiking, cliff diving, rock climbing, and shark diving. There was plenty of things to do, and it almost made Spencer uncomfortable with anxiety at the idea. He'd do it, don't get him wrong, but he still wasn't as comfortable with the idea of doing all these things as Harley was. No matter how many times he did these activities, the statistics where still in his head, something Harley really avoided looking into.

"Sounds fun," Spencer told her with a smile. He'd save the screaming for when he was actually in Hawaii. He had to. He quickly masked his impending frown by biting into a bread knot.

"So, any plans for next week?" Harley asked, before taking a large bite of her pizza.

"I think Morgan is going to try to get me to go clubbing with him soon, but I keep thinking back to that time you went clubbing with the girls you work with and you all got a contact high," Spencer frowned.

"Oh, yeah," Harley laughed. "Our meth mummy. Yeah, we got covered in meth, high as a result, and then went to work. Not our best idea. Did I ever tell you that the only reason we found that guy was because Dr. Brennan pissed off a bunch of African Americans by telling them the music they were playing at the club was distinctly tribal? It was just… so bad."

Spencer laughed. He had heard, but apparently her contact high made her forget that he'd been called by Agent Booth to come take her home, seeing as she'd gotten the largest amount of meth in the showering powder the group had gotten. He'd come by the lab to find her asleep at her desk, and by the time she woke up, she'd had a nasty case of the munchies, and Spencer had been too entertained to deny her some doughnuts. Harley is entertaining when high.

"I want to take you out on a date before you leave," Spencer decided. Harley grinned, playing with his foot under the table.

"Yeah?" Harley asked suggestively.

"Yeah. Not anywhere we have to have a reservation for in case the team gets called out on a case, but maybe a nicer restaurant that we usually go to," Spencer nodded. They usually went to casual places, where there wasn't any dressing up required, and they usually just sat at or near the bar because they could get seats faster. Going to a place were where the dress code was a little more dressed up would be an interesting change of pace.

"Sounds like fun," Harley smiled, taking a sip of her Sherlly Temple.

Later that night, as the two sat in his bed (a modular full sized bed that folded up and could be used as a desk) with Spencer reading Harley's manuscript, as Harley changed her cloths as she sat on the side of the bed.

 _Seven Ways to End a Marriage_ was about a detective trying to solve a black widow case in which the widow all but disappears in the wake of her husbands' deaths. At the start of the book, the widow had killed six husbands and the detective was in the middle of getting married himself. By the end, it turned out that the bride the detective was marrying was the widow and he ended up dead soon after the wedding when he got close to finding her. The detective's partner ended up catching her before she could disappear again, but it turned out that the widow wasn't the one killing her husbands. It was her father. It was a really thrilling read.

When Spencer put the manuscript down, Harley had climbed into bed and was looking at him.

"Was it good?"

Spencer shrugged. "There's a few places I could highlight where you could improve upon it." Harley wacked him with her pillow, and he laughed. "But it was a really incredible read."

"You know, we haven't done it in a while," Harley suggested. Spencer chuckled. But it was true that they hadn't had sex in the last month. It wasn't a horrible idea. Spencer smiled, before rolling over to tackle her before Harley could pull her shirt off. She laughed as he tackled her.

They had a wild night ahead of them.

" _I no longer believed in the idea of soul mates, or love at first sight. But I was beginning to believe that a very few times in your life, if you were lucky, you might meet someone who was exactly right for you. Not because he was perfect, or because you were, but because your combined flaws were arranged in a way that allowed two separate beings to hinge together."_

― Lisa Kleypas, _Blue-Eyed Devil_

* * *

 **Authors Note: Thank you so much for reading. I'd really appreciate any feedback you can offer. Wither you liked my story or not. If I should continue. Please review. And I hope you all have a nice day/night.**

 **And in other news, I am so sorry for taking this long to publish a new chapter but with my return to college looming over the horizon, I'm probably not going to be able to do more than one update a week. I apologize in advance if I ever end up posting less than that, or fewer chapters at longer intervals, but that's a consequence of trying to do x-amount of things in only however much free time I'll have. I hope you can understand, but in the mean time, more reviews encourages me to post more chapters at a reasonably speedy rate.**

 **A big THANK YOU to all of you who have already reviewed and/or Favorited/Followed this story! I love love love the encouragement and I wish all of you the best as summer draws to a close and you all return to whatever you do outside of these three magical months.**


	5. Chapter 5: May 2006

**Authors Note: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **P.S.: I am dyslexic. Any grammatical error is caused by such dyslexia, and after so many years of failing grammar, I could give less of a shit about how you feel about it or what I did wrong. If you want to correct my facts or translations, I welcome it. If something I wrote doesn't make sense, I welcome your opinion. Spelling and grammar errors? Not so much. If it bothers you, find something else to read.**

Chapter 5: May 2006

" _I survived by keeping my emotions in check – by maintaining my composure and tucking it all away. I managed to stay under the radar, skating through school without anyone truly remembering I was here. My teachers acknowledged my academic successes and my coaches depended upon my athletic abilities, but I wasn't important enough to make a recognizable social contribution. I was easily forgettable. That's what I counted on."_

― Rebecca Donovan, _Reason to Breathe_

The date that Spence and Harley had planned to have ended up being pushed back by as case of Spencer's that came up at the last minute. It got pushed back so far that they ended up not being able to go before Harley's trip to New Orleans, and instead, they planned a trip for the team's holiday off work. Spencer's team had managed to wrangle two weeks off from work, and Harley had managed to convince Dr. Goodman to give her the time off on account of missing a good chunk of her Christmas vacation, and never being able take time off, because she usually went with Dr. Brennan on her working vacations.

They'd mapped out a two week coast to coast road trip that began in Vegas, so they could visit his mom before they made their way to San Diego to visit Harley's home town.

They wound up in the library at Bennington Sanitarium the day after they left Virginia, staring at Spencer's mother, Dr. Diana Reid, from the across the room at the doors. Spencer was wearing a black polo and a pair of khakis, an outfit that was slightly out of character for him back in the BAU, but just a little more dressed up then he tended to dress when he followed Harley out on their wild adventures. Harley, in turn, had on a white and blue modest sun dress and a pair of flats. She could have worn it to church, with how modest and entirely out of character it was. She almost never wore flat footed shoes and Spencer was surprised to find out she owned a pair of flat footed shoes that weren't boots or vans. Her hair which now just grazed her shoulders was loose, and wavy.

Harley held his hand as they stood there, waiting for him to make the first move. She'd only been introduced to Diana a year and a half ago, and it'd be odd if Harley went up to her before Spencer. They just didn't have that type of relationship.

"I heard a rumor you were here," one of the facilities doctors, Dr. Jensen, said, walking up to the couple from another room. She was in fact his mother's doctor. She was dressed in a grey pant suit, a pair of heels, and her Bennington ID was clipped to her lapel. "And I see you brought your girlfriend back. It's nice to see you again, Harley."

"How is she?" Spencer asked, not turning his eyes away from his mother. Harley smiled at her, from her spot on Spencer's other side.

"Schizophrenia is a life long illness," Dr. Jensen told them. "The meds stabilize the worst of her symptoms but she still has bad days. What makes her most happy are her journals and your daily letters. She is exceptionally proud of you, Spencer."

"She is?"

"Talks about you all the time. To anyone who will listen," Dr. Jensen told him. "Staff, other patients. Her journals are filled with the cases you right her about. Calls them your adventures."

"Mom's of the belief that you can find adventure all around you if you just look. It's what happens when you're a professor of fifteenth century literature," Spencer explained with a grin, turning to look at the woman.

"Well, she is going to be so excited that you were finally able to get here in person," the doctor told him with a grin.

"Maybe it's better if I just let her rest today," Spencer told her, although it seemed to be more to himself than anything. This inspired a frown form Harley. They had barely seen the woman when they had come to see her over New Year's, and, not that she was offended that their plans where probably going to keep them in Vegas until he saw his mother, they were here now. Why put it of anymore?

"Rest?"

"Yeah, I'll… uh… I'll come back tomorrow," Spencer told her, wrapping an arm around Harley's waist and pulling her into him.

"But Dr.… She's—"

"Can you give this to her?" he asked handing her a book he's brought with him, before stuffing the hand not around Harley into his pocket. "It's Margery Kempe. Her favorite."

"It would be really good for her if you could just…"

"Please. Thank you so much. Thanks."

And then Spencer almost dragged Harley out of there, wanting to escape the facility he'd made the hard choice of locking his mom away in.

Out in the parking lot, next to the jeep Harley's parents had left for them in the airport parking lot when they'd arrived in Vegas, Harley stopped him before he could speed off. She put her hand over his on the steering wheel and squeezed. Spencer looked tense, with white knuckled fists wrapped around the steering wheel and a hard frown on her face.

"I'm sorry for delaying our trip," he whispered, barely moving a muscle.

"Pen, I swear, I don't care," Harley told him, moving so she was sitting on the console dividing their seats and leaned into him. "This is your mom we're talking about. She's more important than this trip. We'll stay as long as you need. It's not like there's no fun to be had in Vegas. You won't be hurting my feelings if we stay here, I swear."

_._._._._

That night, Spencer and Harley ended up at a restaurant in one of the casinos that a friend of Harley's mom ran security for. The Montecito Hotel and Casino was along the strip, and the same place Harley and Spencer stayed at every time they'd come to Vegas since Spencer had sold the house he grew up in. Ed Deline, the head of security at the casino was the former head of CIA Counter Intelligence, and the greatest security man Vegas had ever seen. His right hand man Danny McCoy in surveillance and security, was a former marine and a good friend of both Spencer and Harley. In fact, Danny was one of the only friends he'd had in high school. As a courtesy, and a precaution, they had never even attempted to gamble here.

The restaurant they went to had been recommended to them by their friends at the hotel, and they both had dressed up for it. Harley had chosen an outfit that was less reserved and modest than she'd dress anywhere on the east coast, and still less conservative than she'd dress anywhere outside of Vegas. Harley was by no means uncomfortable in her body, but she tended to wear more than she'd have felt comfortable in for the sake of others. But in Vegas? You could dress however you want and no one was going to feel uncomfortable by it. Vegas isn't modest or conservative. Vegas was the only place in the world like it: former mob lawyer as mayor; legal gambling; valets with master's degrees in engineering; bars that never close; world class food and entertainment; 24/7 action. The only two goals where to make a lot of money, and make it through the day without being buried alive in the desert. The dress code was loose.

And Harley is the type of girl who thrives in bikinis.

She had on a little black dress that hugged her a little tighter and dipped a little deeper than she would where to a place in DC with a silver and black blazer over top of it, and a pair of shinny Louboutins heels. They were an inch shorter than she'd usually go for, but it was probably better that way. Her hair was left loose, and her makeup had upped its game a little.

Spencer had on a black suit of his own, and he had his arm around Harley the entire time from when they left their room to when they sat down at their table.

"So, do you just want to stay in Vegas for the next two weeks, and spend some time with your mom?" Harley asked, putting her hand over his on the table. He knew what she was asking. The between the lines part of it. _You can visit your mom, and I can make some money doing some work for Ed._

One of Harley's part time hobbies, outside of writing books, and going on ridiculous adventures, Harley liked helping out casinos with their security systems, and surveillance measures. While she was good at science, she was even better at code and encryption, and Spencer wouldn't be surprised if she was doing side work for the CIA. The last time someone had come to her work to do an evaluation for security clearance, they had passed over her in their interviews, and Spencer had gotten a call from one of the people she works with wanting to know why. Spencer didn't and still doesn't have an answer for that, and he has no plans to ask for one any time soon.

"Yeah, it gives me time to spend with my mom. And then if Garcia checks, I won't be caught in a lie," Spencer explained, rolling his hand over under hers and bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it. Harley, in turn, understood what he wasn't saying: _This gives me time to relieve some of the guilt I have over not visiting as often as I should_. Harley understood that guilt. She hadn't seen her family as often as she should in years. The only difference was he always knew where his mom was, and Harley rarely knew where her parents or brother would be. She only saw them at Thanksgiving and Christmas. But even that wasn't a definite.

"Alright then. I'll talk to Ed and Danny in the morning."

"Thank you. I just—"

"Pen, trust me when I say this. I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want to stay. I'm fine with the idea of staying in Vegas for two weeks. We can road trip some other time. It's not like we can't find someone to feed the pets," Harley explained, giving him a grin to show she was okay with remaining in Vegas.

Spencer and Harley stuck to lighter conversation for the rest of dinner, and then went to a Latin dance club for some salsa to cool off to. They had fun and turned in around midnight so that Spencer could get up early to see his mother in the morning. Or at least, that had been the plan until they got into the elevator. Things got pretty steamy after that.

_._._._._

The next morning, as Spencer walked into Bennington Sanitarium alone, he got stopped by the desk worker. "Oh. Dr. Reid. Someone delivered this to the desk last night for you."

"What?" he asked, looking at the package she had just dug out from under a pile and was holding out in his direction, as he turned to walk her way. He took the packet, looked at it from all angles, and then opened it. Inside was a smaller packet with his name written on the front. He opened it, and emptied it into his hand. A skeleton key fell into his hand, and upon further inspection, he pulled out a note. The note was hand written in all caps.

 _ **SHE WILL DIE**_

 _ **UNLESS YOU SAVE**_

 _ **HER, DR. REID.**_

 _ **CALL GIDEON.**_

 _ **HE KNOWS.**_

He read it out loud to himself before rushing out of the building to the Jeep he and Harley were supposed to be sharing. Inside the car, he put everything back in the original package and pulled out his phone to call Harley, wanting to make sure she wasn't the "Her" the note was talking about.

Harley confirmed that she hadn't left the hotel and was in the security room, re-familiarizing herself with their systems. And she arranged for him to get the next flight out to DC with a promise to make sure he found the "bastardo" who'd now officially ruined her two week vacation. She told Spencer to leave the Jeep in short term parking with the key taped under the back fender, and that she'd arrange for someone to bring it back to the hotel.

Then he called Gideon to tell him about his package and his change of plans.

A real fun start to what was supposed to be two weeks alone with his favorite person.

He hadn't even started working the case and he already hated this unsub.

 _Great._

_._._._._

After flying into Dulles, he caught up with his team at the scene of Frank Gilles' murder. He could hear them talking as he walked in.

"The beds in the middle of the room." Hotch.

"Which isn't by chance." Morgan.

"And maybe the light from here casts a shadow and points to something." Hotch.

"Come on, are we in the middle of an Indiana Jones movie?" Elle.

"The hour be none?" Hotch.

"Well midnight is 00 hours in 24 hour time. Would that be none?" Morgan.

"Midnight wouldn't cast a shadow," Hotch informed Morgan, looking up at the other agent from his crouched position by the bed, with his back to the wall. Morgan was standing across from him, Elle almost at the head of the bed, and Gideon closest to the wall facing the window.

"Hour be none?" Morgan asked.

"Three PM, guys," Spencer informed them, walking all the way into the room. His voice was soft as he continued. "Garcia told me where to find you."

"Three PM?" Gideon asked from his spot furthest from the rest of the group.

"It's medieval. The days used to be broken into hourly intervals, the acoustical hours of the breviary. Prime, six AM. Terce, nine AM. Sext, twelve noon. None, three PM. And Vespers six PM," he explained, as Gideon came closer to his side. He left out that Seventh-Day Adventists used the name Vespers to name their Friday night worship services at their college campuses. Of course Vespers happen at eight PM Friday night, rather than six PM. A fact he'd learned from Harley.

"Reid, do not ever go away again," Elle told him, pointing a finger his way. Fat chance of that, he wanted his two weeks' vacation he was promised.

"Medieval, that's why the language changed," Gideon surmised. "Doth."

"Everything this guy does is a clue," Hotch added.

"But guys, it's four thirty-five. What do we do, leave the blade in until three PM tomorrow?" Morgan asked, using his hands to indicate towards the body. Spencer definitely did not have time for that.

"Not if we can block that window up," he theorized, before turning to Gina, one of the crime scene techs, who was crouched down next to Morgan at the body's feet. "Do you have any spotlights in your car?"

"Sure."

"Thanks, Gina," Elle told the woman as she walked away.

When they got the window blocked so that it wasn't letting light in, and Spencer positioned himself in front of the window with the spot light, he began talking again. "The sun is right here, at five PM. Morgan follow the shadow as I move the light higher."

Morgan moved the lamp, suit case, and the short table in front of the wall. "Okay and do what?"

"Tap," Hotch instructed him. Morgan began to tap at the wall as Spencer moved the light, his taping following the shadow of the sword downward."

"It's hollow," Morgan told them when he hit a spot that sounded different than the rest of the wall.

"Definitely an Indiana Jones Movie," Elle chimed in. "It feels like the wall paper's been replaced," Morgan added.

"Tear it up," Hotch instructed. Morgan pulled out his pocket knife, flipped it open, and began to cut open the wall. He ripped a piece or wall paneling away to reveal a wooden book

"It's a box," Morgan informed them.

"Take it out."

"Wait, wait. Are we sure that's safe," Spencer asked, because of course he's the youngest here and he really has things he'd still like to do in life. Like that two week vacation he's supposed to be on with Harley right now.

"Why? You think it's a bomb? You think he'd be playing this game with us just to blow us up?" Hotch asked, sounding irritated. No, but there are other things you can store in a box that are dangerous. Spencer should know, he got trapped in a lab on Christmas because of bone partials carrying valley fever. He had a right to panic a little. Or Y-pestis, or any number other biological contaminant that comes in powder form. Even anthrax. Why was he the only one concerned about this?

"He'd have already done that as long as we've been standing here," Morgan explained, having turned to face Spencer. Then he turned around to pull the box out from its cavern in the wall. He put it on the table he'd moved earlier and tried, with no success, to open it. "It's locked. Do you want me to break it?"

"No, we should process it first," Hotch told him, sounding a little sad.

"The youngest holds the key," Gideon recited from the note he'd gotten along with the baseball card and the decapitated head. Everyone turned to look at Spencer. He fiddled, trying to locate the key on his person before pulling it out of his shirt pocket, and walking over to the box. He stuck the key in, turned it, hearing a click, and then cautiously opened the lid. Music spilled out. "Schubert. The Trout Quintet."

"Five people fishing," Hotch spoke as Spencer pulled out a note from within the box.

"Never would it be night, but always would it be clear day to any man's sight," he read, his forehead frowned.

"Wow, that was worth it," Elle spoke sarcastically.

"The lid," Gideon told them as Spencer flipped the note over to find… nothing. "The tab right under the lock."

Morgan reached down and pulled it open. It revealed a chunk of hair and a DVD.

"Oh, god," Elle spoke for the group. The DVD read "Thy Quest". Morgan pulled it out. "Do you have that evidence bag?"

"Here you go," one of the techs told her, handing her a bag she promptly put the hair in.

"Thy Quest," Morgan read from the front of the DVD.

_._._._._

After the team watched the DVD detailing the rules and more clues to their "quest", they sifted through the clues they had. And after receiving a package brought to the BAU by Mrs. Haley Hotchner, they stared at the piece of paper with numbers on it that she'd brought to them. They had to find out the exact book they related to decipher their message. JJ came back with the DNA hit on the hair; it belonged to a Rebecca Bryant who had been missing out of Boston for two years. Then Gideon had JJ go to a press conference with the sketch of the man Haley had helped the sketch artist with. Then Hotch sent Elle home with Agent Anderson when he found her asleep on the couch.

Spencer fought to keep himself from rolling his eyes at that. 36 hours of no sleep and she was falling asleep at work? He and Harley had once gone 72 hours while working to figure out a cheating ring at a hotel in Vegas.

Spencer worked on trying to figure out what book the code went to, and where he'd heard the line before.

When he figured out that the book had to be published in 1963, he went to Penelope Garcia's lair. She was working on finding their actual hacker.

"This guy is infuriatingly good. He rooted his IP through major corporations, crisscrossed it through countries, bounced it off satellites—"

"I though you already found the hacker?"

"No, I only found what he wanted me to find. The apartment where Gilles was dead. Reid, a hacker capable of getting into my systems is going to have amazingly sophisticated equipment. Did Gilles' apartment have that?"

"He didn't have a couch."

"Exactly," Garcia told him, typing away. "Gilles was a smoke screen I should have seen through. But, now I have this glorious program I wrote, tracking the hacker though his other identity. Sir Kneighf."

Spencer bet Harley could have done it faster, but he wasn't going to tell Garcia that. He got in close to her computer screen. "K.N.E.I.G.H.F. It's an odd spelling."

"Do you need something?"

"Yeah," Spencer stated, moving out of the hackers personal space. "Is there a database that lists all the books published in a given year?"

"Individual publishers have lists, but I don't think there's anything like a master one. Plus it would depend upon the year because the farther back you go, the less likely there'll be any database at all," Garcia told him.

"1963."

"Yeah, okay. That would be an example of extremely less likely." He really wished Harley, or even Angela were here. At least they'd have been somewhat kinder about that delivery.

"Could you do me a favor and type something into a search engine for me?" Spencer asked before reciting the quote.

"Kay, that's from a poem. The Parliament of—"

"FOWELS! Yeah, yeah, yeah. Chaucer. My… My mom used to read me that. It's widely considered at the first valentines' poem," Spencer exclaimed. Starting to pace around the small room.

"Your mom read you valentines' poems? Hello therapy."

Then Spencer started thinking about their case, and the clues. Chaucer. Parliament of Fowels. 283 pages long. Published in 1963. A butterfly indigenous to Great Brittan that had been sent to JJ. Something born. Something from Great Brittan. Medieval. Chaucer was Middle English. Fowels. "There was a contemporary British author, Fowels. John Fowels. Will you type it into a search engine?"

"UH… He wrote the _Maggots_. _The French Lieutenant's Woman_."

"Anything in 1963, published in Great Brittan?"

" _The Collector_."

"Collector. Baseball cards, skeleton keys, music boxes. These are things that are collected."

Garcia had a cover of the book pop up on the screen. The cover had the butterfly that was sent to JJ, a strand of hair, and a skeleton key on it. "Reid."

It was a good thing Spencer knew someone who liked owning first addition copies, who read books by Fowels. It was time he made a call, and got someone to go over to Harley's apartment to see if she had the book. In the meantime, he'd check with the libraries.

_._._._._

He had Mrs. Velez, Harley's next door neighbor who was doggy-sitting BC while Spencer and Harley where away, go into Harley's apartment to look through her personal library, and she got back to him telling him that Harley owned the exact copy of the book they were looking for. He then read her the code and had Mrs. Velez read back the corresponding word to decrypt the puzzle, and Garcia writing them down on a white board behind him. He was sad to find out that Elle had been shot, but he had work to do. After reading her the code, and getting the words back, he stared at the message that was left.

 _ **THE PATH TO THE END**_

 _ **BEGAN AT HIS START**_

 _ **TO FIND HER FIRST CALM**_

 _ **HER LONG BROKEN HEART**_

 _ **SHE SITS IN A WINDOW**_

 _ **WITH SECRETS FROM HER KNIGHT**_

 _ **IS IT ADVENTURE THAT KEEPS**_

 _ **HIM OUT OF HER SIGHT**_

Penelope Garcia read it aloud. "Is it another puzzle?"

"It's a riddle," Spencer informed her, staring at the words. "Began at his start… The youngest holds the key… Sits in a window… Secrets… Adventure… Secrets from her knight… Sits in a window…"

He looked over the message he'd gotten, reading it back to himself.

"Never would it be night, but always would it be clear day… It's never night in Vegas," He said coming to a conclusion. He grabbed the phone. He should call the FBI field office closest to Las Vegas… but… He ended up dialing another, far more familiar number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Spencer Reid with the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico. Your boss knows me. Can you tell him I need my mother picked up and bought to Virginia in protective custody as soon as possible? We're searching for an Unsub who shot one of our agents today, and I… I think he might know my mother and I believe she may be in danger."

"Spencer…" Harley's voice came over the line.

"She's a patient at Bennington Sanitarium so you might have to call your detective friend to help you get her out of there, but I need her brought to Quantico immediately," Spencer said over the phone, knowing full well that Garcia could hear him. "Do I need to call the FBI field office closest to Las Vegas and ask them to do this?"

"No," Ed's gruff voice came over the line. "I'll send Harley and Danny with her on our jet. You're lucky it was already going to be headed your way kid."

"Thank you, sir," Spencer told him before ending the call.

"Who did you just call?" Garcia asked.

"A friend."

_._._._._

"That's why you're so skinny, you know," his mother's voice came from behind him, five hours after he'd made the call. He turned to look at her from where he was standing at the kitchenette in the break room. She had on a dark maxi dress, a knit cardigan and a large straw purse over her shoulder. Harley and Danny came in behind her. His mother's hair was short and blonde with darker roots. Just like it always is. Her eyes had bags under them and her skin was wrinkled with age. "Too much coffee."

"Thanks a lot guys. I've got her," he told Harley and Danny, walking closer. Danny was dressed in his usual suit and tie with too expensive shoes. And Harley… well Harley was dressed in her element with leather skinny jeans, a sparkly gold peplum top that dipped low in the front, a leather jacket, and a sky high pair of platform heels. It probably wasn't appropriate for being in an FBI building, but it had been for being behind the monitors at a casino. Her dark hair was loose but straight. And she looked… Well, he needed her out of the room to think straight.

Harley gave him a smile, and a hug before she and Danny left for the bullpen, probably to entertain themselves at his desk, and correspond with the casino through their cellphones.

"You know I'm terrified of flying," his mother told him as he got closer.

"I know mom, I'm sorry," he told her in a soft voice.

"Then why did you have that goon and your girlfriend arrest me?"

He grinned. "Mom, Danny's not a goon, and you were not arrested. I don't think either of them can arrest people. I'm trying to protect you."

"By forcing me to do the one thing that frightens me more than anything else?"

"I need to show you something," he told her, leading her away. "Follow me."

He lead her into their conference room and showing her in.

"This is where you work?" She asked, looking around.

"This is where we meet. Uh… my desk, you see, is right out there in the bullpen area. Danny and Harley were sitting at it," he told her, his hands clasped in front of him as she walked further into the room.

"The table's round," she observed.

"Yeah, just like I wrote you in my letters."

"Yes, just like you wrote in your letters," his mother told him with a grin. "Dr. Jensen gave me the book you brought. Margery Kempe."

"She's your favorite."

"That particular book is one of her minor works," his mother told him, walking up to the board and snatching the key off.

"Mom, no," Spencer told her running over. "Don't take… Don't… You can't take things off the board. That key is evidence… Mom, the unsub that we're looking for… the bad guy, knows things about my colleges personal lives, things that only you would know. DO you right about them in your journals?"

"My journals are NONE OF THE GOVERNMENTS BUSINESS!"

"I'm not the government," he told her barely over a whisper.

"Well this certainly looks like a government office!"

"Mother, do you right about my colleges personal lives?" he asked softly.

"Why did you bring me here, Spencer?"

"I need to ask you some questions about a man I think you might know. A bad man. He's killed some people and he's holding a girl hostage."

"You think I know someone like that?" his mother asked, looking sad.

"Will you just watch the tape and see if he sounds familiar?"

She nodded, and he pulled out a chair for her to sit in. He pressed play on the video and as it played he watched a look of recognition cross her face.

"You do know him?"

"I'm sure it's… Randal Garner," she answered

"Randal Garner?"

"He was with me at the hospital. He's a very emotionally disturbed man," she told him.

"Reid," Garcia called, quickly moving into the room. "I got to the end of the IP string. Sir Kneighf? The Fisher King? His name is Randal Garner. He's Rebecca Bryant's biological father."

Now they have to call Hotch.

"I can't believe she's real," his mother told the a few moments after they alerted Hotch, although she was almost talking more to herself than to them.

"What do you mean?" Garcia asked.

"Whenever he talked about Rebecca, he never said she was his daughter. He said all his children died in the fire," she explained to the pair. "He spoke of _a_ Rebecca, more in the abstract. I really thought she was a metaphor, not a human being. An ideal.

"A grail," Spencer added. "He thinks he's the Fisher King."

"Who does?" Morgan asked, walking into the conference room with JJ trailing behind him with a stack of folders.

"Randal Garner. Our unsub," Spencer informed him.

"He believes your all modern day knights of the round table," Diana added.

At Morgan's questioning look and pointed finger, Spencer made introductions. "Derek Morgan, this is my mother, Diana Reid."

"That's your mother?" Morgan asked, his hand still not yet down by his side. "Ma'am it's a pleasure to meet you."

"So where are we on finding this son of a bitch, and who wants to tell me who those people are who are sitting at Reid's desk?" Hotch asked, walking into the room.

"I rechecked all the clues, and there's nothing that points to an address," Spencer informed him as they all began sitting down. He hoped they could distract Hotch long enough not to ask the second part of his question.

"The adoption records for Rebecca list an address at the fire, so I made a call to Nevada, and it's vacant. No one ever rebuilt," JJ told Hotch, who had remained standing.

"Nevada? So we don't even know what state he's in?" Hotch asked, although the way he said it almost made it a statement.

"I'll search tax record. See if he owns any property," Garcia told him

"Excuse me," Diana spoke up from her seat by the white board.

"Mom, do you want to wait out—"

"Just before Spencer's friends got me from the hospital, a man delivered this to me. It's a photo of a house with an address on the back," she informed them, showing them the back of the picture first.

"Shiloh, Virginia?" Morgan read. "That's only ten miles from here."

They took off for the house the picture showed almost immediately. Hotch stopped Spencer before he could leave. "Who are the two people at your desk?"

"Danny McCoy and Dr. Harley Isley. They're friends of mine. They brought my mom here from Las Vegas when we made the connection to her," Spencer told Hotch. "It was faster than sending agents to go get her and they have access to a private plane, so it was more time efficient."

Hotch gave him a look like he wanted more, but ultimately they didn't have the time for it. So he let Spencer pass, and the two made their way to the SUVs while Harley and Danny sat with his mother, listening to her give a lecture like she was speaking in front of a class of students rather than a small room with only two other people.

_._._._._

Randal Garner blew himself up in the end, but they managed to rescue Rebecca. And Spencer went with Harley, Danny, and his mother back to Vegas on an early morning flight, after he visited Elle at the hospital, to finish his two week vacation. He and Harley stayed in Vegas for those two weeks and enjoyed themselves amongst their friends. He spent more time with his mom, and a lot of time having fun with Harley on and off the stip.

It was by no means the perfect vacation, like the one that had been planned, but they both enjoyed it. And in the end, that was all that mattered really.

Plus he got to catch up with Danny and Mary, his only friends in High School.

So really, who cared if it wasn't as planned? It wasn't perfect. But it was better.

 _"It has been said that time heals all wounds. I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens, but it is never gone."_

-Rose Kennedy

 **(The quote Spencer quoted at the end of the episode)**


	6. Chapter 6: Fall 2006

**Authors Note: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **P.S.: I am dyslexic. Any grammatical error is caused by such dyslexia, and after so many years of failing grammar, I could give less of a shit about how you feel about it or what I did wrong. If you want to correct my facts or translations, I welcome it. If something I wrote doesn't make sense, I welcome your opinion. Spelling and grammar errors? Not so much. If it bothers you, find something else to read.**

* * *

Chapter 6: Fall 2006

" _Contrary to what the cynics say, distance is not for the fearful, it is for the bold. It's for those who are willing to spend a lot of time alone in exchange for a little time with the one they love. It's for those knowing a good thing when they see it, even if they don't see it nearly enough."_

― Adam Gottbetter

Surprisingly, Hotch never asked Spencer to go into more detail on his relationship with Danny or Harley after the Fisher King case. So Spencer tried not to pay much attention to the fact that Hotch seemed to pay more attention to him now. And as summer faded into fall, Spencer found he had other things to focus on. Like absence.

Elle's departure from the team ended up occurring right as Harley was meant to leave for her four month stay in Oahu, working and learning at the Joint POW/MIA Accounting Command Forensic Science Academy. It was a bitter few weeks for Spencer as he dealt with the absence of a friend and the impending four months without Harley. And he couldn't bring it up with Harley seeing as she would (no doubt about it) cancel her plans and stay in DC with Spencer. He knew Harley could tell that Elle's departure was effecting him and that she realized what she was doing when she became even more insistent on Spencer going to church with her every Saturday morning that the team wasn't in some other state for. They didn't talk about it, but they both had known each other long enough to read the other like an open book. Not an incredibly long, hard, detailed, or time consuming book, but a book none the less.

Spencer helped her pack, and went with her to drop BC off with her cousin Antonio and his three crazy tiny tots. He laughed, because he could tell immediately that BC had no idea of what to make with these small children that she'd barely had to deal with before. Usually BC go left with Harley's cousin Giovanni, who had several dogs, but Gio was out of town (Trenton, where he lived near all the rest of the family) and had already dispersed his dogs among several other relatives. Harley couldn't leave BC with her Nonna seeing as the old woman had several small dogs herself, all of which Harley regularly called rats and beasts. So instead, BC would have to adapt to living with the triplets that where better known as "I mostri piccoli." **(The little monsters)**

On top of all of this, Harley had just gotten a new boss over the summer while Dr. Brennan was in Venezuela. Which isn't to say that Dr. Brennan is no longer her boss, because she is, but that the Medical-Legal lab at the Jeffersonian got its first ever head of forensics. Apparently, Dr. Saroyan, the woman who'd gotten the job, was an M.E. and had taken to giving the boys nicknames: Zack Addy was Zackaroni, and Hodgins was Hodge-podge. She hadn't nicknames either Angela or Harley, which confused Harley. Although, honesty, Harley preferred not being subjected to being nicknamed. What she didn't prefer was the new restrictions on their experimenting in the lab.

So standing with Harley in the middle of Dulles International in September wasn't a bitter sweet moment. Just bitter. Spencer had to look at his girlfriend for what was going to be the last time for the next few months, and send her away, which while not unusual, had never happened under these circumstances before, where Spencer was grieving. He had to smile, tell her goodbye, and send her away from him, all while wishing to pull her closer, handcuff her to him and not let her board the plane that would take her away from him. He had to let her go because it was the right thing to do. Because it was the only thing he could do with a clear conscience.

So he did. He hugged her hard, kissed her harder, and watched her disappear through security. And he had to smile at her as he did all of this. Because it was the best opportunity for Harley. And because right now, none of this was about him.

He knew it was going to end up being more than four months. That she'd take the first offer to stay longer that they threw at her. And they would throw it at her. Harley's IQ was just a few points lower than his own, and she was an incredible scientist. They'd have to be stupid not to ask her to stay on longer. So he'd have to learn to live with just hearing her voice over the phone, and corresponding for the most part through e-mails, voicemails, and texts. It would be like going back to before they'd met, when they were just two genius pen-pals away at college.

He'd try not to feel too bitter about it.

 _I'll probably fail at that_ , he thought to himself. He'd probably even miss her dog. And that was saying something, considering he thought BC only paid attention to him because the dog knew he hated it. It never made sense. Outside of Harley and her family, dogs and children reacted badly to his presents. But all of Harley's little cousins seemed to want his attention more than that the other adults at family gatherings, and none of their dogs ever reacted to him like he'd grown used to, except Nonna's little dogs, but they reacted to everyone that way. The "Reid Effect" seemed to be null and void around Harley and her relatives.

He knew he could have asked her to stay. And he also knew she would have. She would have waited, and gone latter if he'd asked. So he couldn't ask. And he could ask her to come home. And he knew she'd do that too if he asked. So, again, he didn't ask.

The BAU is what he'd wanted, and Harley had never asked him to stop or quit or not to go on a case with his team. Not once. So now that it was Harley flying away, he couldn't ask her to press pause on her career or stay with him or do anything that impeded her success as an anthropologist. It just wasn't right. He wanted to, sure, but he couldn't ask her to give up any opportunity life throw her way because he was selfish enough to want her to stay. (Unless she got offered a permanent position as an anthropologist outside of DC, then... There might be begging involved if it ever came to that.)

 _It was_ _ **only**_ _for a couple months._

 _It wasn't_ _ **permanent**_ _._

 _She'd be_ _ **back**_ _._

 _He'd be_ _ **fine**_ _without her._

Those four lines became his mantra. They cycled through his mind continuously. Because if he said it enough times, maybe, just maybe, they'd be true.

 _It was_ _ **only**_ _for a couple months._

 _It wasn't_ _ **permanent**_ _._

 _She'd be_ _ **back**_ _._

 _He'd be_ _ **fine**_ _without her._

In the back of his mind, though, some part of him said that was all just it was that part of him that Spencer hated at the moment.

_._._._._

A few days later, when Spencer was feeling particularly low, he found the book Harley had left him, sitting in front of his door. It was a habit of hers, to arrange for books to be delivered to him in intervals. He didn't know what magical fairy she got to drop them off, but he never complained about it.

It was an advanced copy of _Seven Ways to End a Marriage_. Picking it up, and flipping through the first couple of pages that no one ever really reads, he found the dedication page. And it was all he'd needed that day.

 _To Pen, mio più grande amico , mio confidente , mio amore_ **(my greatest friend, my confidant, my love)**

 _For all of your support, your encouragement, and the time you spent making sure I took care of myself._

 _Know there is no one else._

 _May our life together be long, interesting, and spent within the circle of each other's arms._

 _Live long and die having loved and been loved in return._

 _Know wherever the wind takes me, I shall always return._

Spencer smiled down at the words as he opened the door to his apartment, only to be greeted by Schrodinger. The cat who only came out when Harley was in the apartment, and had gotten its name three weeks after Spencer got him because he hadn't been seen, was sitting on the desk/dining table as if having waited for his return. Schrodinger swung his tail, stared at Spencer, and climbed down, only to rub himself around Spencer's ankles.

That was all he needed to reaffirm himself that he'd made the right choice in not asking Harley to stay.

That he'd made the best choice.

When he talked to Harley the next morning (6 AM his time and noon her time), he thanked her for the book dedication, and promptly told her all about Schrodinger's strange new behavior. Harley found it hilarious. When he tripped over the cat latter in the conversation, Spencer realized that he preferred the cat that was never around, and Harley laughed herself silly.

" _There is greatness in doing something you hate for the sake of someone you love."_

― Shmuley Boteach

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry if this chapter is too short, but it's just a little something I wanted to cover before going into Spencer's addiction days, to set the stage for where both Harley and Spencer are with each other before that happens.**

 **As always, please review. And thank you to all of you who do!**


	7. Chapter 7: Winter 2006-2007

**Authors Note: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy.**

 **P.S.: I am dyslexic. Any grammatical error is caused by such dyslexia, and after so many years of failing grammar, I could give less of a shit about how you feel about it or what I did wrong. If you want to correct my facts or translations, I welcome it. If something I wrote doesn't make sense, I welcome your opinion. Spelling and grammar errors? Not so much. If it bothers you, find something else to read.**

* * *

Chapter 7: Winter 2006-2007

" _I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom."_

― Edgar Allan Poe

Things changed in Harley's absence. Emily Prentis came onto the team, replacing Elle Greenway. Schrodinger, the cat, started acting like any other cat, no longer hiding, and now swatting at Spencer for attention. Books where delivered to Spencer's door every few day by a courier service Harley had hired. And a pile of little sticky notes with quotes written in Harley's thin, looping script sat collected on his table. And he read the books the notes had come in, no matter how out of Spencer's typical genre they were. And the only time he heard her voice was during their daily phone calls, and the voicemails she'd leave him before she went to bed and periodically through the week. Harley loved Hawaii, there was no doubt in Spencer's mind about that. He just hoped she loved him more

When Spencer got kidnapped by Tobias Hankel, Harley was still working out in the JPAC in Pearl Harbor, one month into her second four months there, identifying the remains of American soldiers from World War II, the Korean War, and the Vietnam War. She hadn't been able to get a flight back before Spencer talked her out of coming home, and Spencer hadn't expected her to. Nor did he want her to (Or at least not the new addict in him. The old Spencer wanted her home more than he wanted air). Harley knew him better than anyone else, even the professional profilers he worked with. Unlike his team who would more than likely attribute his new behavioral quirks to his experience having been kidnapped, Harley would have seen the deeper implications. That he didn't blame Tobias and was actually saddened by his death. That he'd only blamed Tobias' father and the psychosis. She would have been around to find the needles and the track marks and the Dilauded. She would have seen the addiction at its start. And she might have done something about it, like his team failed to. She could have stopped the addiction before it evolved. And the irrational, addict side of him couldn't let that happen.

So when she offered to come home, he told her not to. He encouraged her to stay with a renewed vigor and a tenacity he had lacked before his time being held prisoner.

Instead, he woke one morning to find Harley's Nonna had come in her stead, and had taken over his kitchen early in the morning as he had slept. She had a new desire to fatten him up, much as Mrs. Weasley had tried to with Harry in _Harry Potter_ (it was one of the books that Harley had had delivered to his front door, so of course he had read it. And then he'd gone out and bought the rest of the series that had so far been published). The elderly Italian woman had stayed a week, made him enough meals to last a few months, and babied him more than he ever had been before, before heading back home to Trenton, New Jersey, and all the children and grandchildren that lived near her. Harley was gone through most of his time as an addict. In the coming two weeks afterwards, he'd return from cases to find one of Harley's aunts had been by or was still at his apartment, wanting to make sure he was okay and give him some extra babying. One case after another he found himself immersed deeper and deeper into Harley's family. And at the same time, more and more dependent on the clear liquid in the tiny little bottle. By the first month after… after the first month of addiction, Harley's family began to remain home rather than coming to baby him, and Spencer couldn't tell if he was relieved or saddened by this turn of events.

He had more freedom, sure, but he'd just had his first taste of having a family who loved him unconditionally, and he was sad to see that fade.

Schrodinger, who had almost turned into a regular cat following Harley's departure to Hawaii, had now reverted back to his usual behavior of hiding since Spencer's addiction started, and Spencer felt conflicted about that as well. It was as if everything was returning to normal.

Except Harley still wasn't home.

After a while, Spencer and Harley stopped talking on the phone every day, and it was nearly entirely his fault. Sometimes he'd go a week before picking up when she called. He'd became increasingly paranoid that Harley could tell there was something wrong with him just listening to him talk through the phone, and as dependent as he'd become on the drugs, he couldn't have afforded to have her worry and decide to do something about it. Harley still called him every day for a couple months, but what had been three times a day, dwindled to once a day, and by the three month mark of his addiction, it finally got to the point where there hadn't been a new voicemail to listen to in a few days. And despite being the cause behind that, it saddened Spencer immensely, especially when the books being delivered to his door slowed down as well. Although wither it was because Harley hadn't planned to be gone this long and there just wasn't the same stock of books there had been at the start or if Harley was intentionally withholding the book deliveries, Spencer couldn't be sure.

Three months into this new phase of his life, when a case took the team to New Orleans, Spencer's addiction finally began coming to light, and he finally had to face his demons. It affected his work, and his relationship with his team, and it'd even impacted his relationship with Harley. So Spencer tracked down the only person he knew he could go to for help, no questions asked. The only person who could grasp the situation with perfect clarity, knowing all the pieces and all of the players that were missing. Ethan had a grasp on the situation that his team couldn't understand: he knew about Harley and Spencer's relationship with his fellow genius. Ethan understood the effects Harley's absence had on Spencer.

Spencer found Ethan in an alley and decided to scare him.

"Jeez! Reid, you scared me," Ethan exclaimed. Ethan's dark hair was long and curled at the ends, brushed away from his face. He had a short beard on his face that took away from his cheek bones. The grey button up and black slacks he was wearing really made him seem paler than he was. He was thin, and Spencer couldn't tell if he'd always been that way or if it was new. _Harley would probably know._

"Always been one step ahead of you, man," Spencer told his friend with a grin.

"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night," Ethan replied. "I'm glad you called, it's good to see you."

"You too," Spencer responded.

"Let's get a drink," Ethan told him, leading him into the dimly lit Jaz bar. The walls were painted red, the furniture was all of a dark color, all the lamps and light fixtures where old, and there was thick gold crown molding above the bar.

Behind the bar were 214 clear glasses turned upside down on glass shelves all, very well lit. Ethan went over to the bar in look of some pistachios to eat, greeting the bartender dressed in all black as he drew closer. There were a copper vase with pink and yellow lilies at the end of the bar. Spencer's phone rang while they were standing at the bar, and he pulled it out and flipped it open to see that Emily was calling him. He put his phone away, not wanting to talk to her as Ethan started talking. Being here with Ethan was more important than the case. Especially if his old friend could help him get clean. If not, he'd go to Danny next.

"So, are you going to ask the question?"

"What question?"

"Come on man, it's me here. We haven't talked to each other in years. I know it's why you called me. Ask the question," Ethan told him.

"Why did you quit after only one day of FBI training?" Spencer relented.

"Well… I'm sure you've considered the evidence," Ethan started, raising his drink to his lips, "analyzed the science. What's your theory?"

"You were battling your own demons. You didn't have time to analyze someone else's," Spencer told him, watching Ethan take a sip of his amber colored alcohol.

"Not bad. Not bad," Ethan replied. "Those days I did prefer Jack Daniels to Jeff Dahmer. But they both weigh on your soul eventually."

Spencer's phone started to ring again. "Sorry." Emily again. Just like before, he didn't answer, putting his phone back into his pocket.

"The Bat Phone," Ethan joked before taking another sip.

"Let me ask you this, Ethan. Do you ever regret it?"

"No. I may not be changing the world, but my music makes me happy. Doesn't take a profiler to see that you're not. Tell me, where is Harley these days?" Ethan informed him, walking away from the bar. Spencer knew the last question was rhetorical. Spencer might not have kept in touch with Ethan, but Harley sure had.

"It's not easy," Spencer spoke quietly, putting money down on the bar to pay for their drinks, and then taking his own glass to follow after Ethan. "It's not… I don't even believe some of the things that I've seen."

"John Coltrane. He was a genius too. Died of cancer. But most people think it was the booze and heroine that did him in," Ethan informed him, sitting sprawled back in his antique arm chair. Spencer sat across from him on the edge of his seat.

"What are you trying to say?"

"You look like hell," Ethan told him frankly.

"I'm fine."

"Come on man. I'm a jazz musician in New Orleans. I know what it looks like when someone's not well. It's maybe the one time that I can tell you something that you don't already know. It might make you forget, but it would make it go away," Ethan explained. "And if I can tell… You're surrounded by some of the best minds in the world. If you think they don't notice"—Ethan put his hand out in front of him to imitate the shakiness Spencer had between highs (It was similar of the shakiness Harley got when her blood sugar got to low)—"Well, for a genius, that's just dumb. And Harley hasn't even seen you and she can tell. When are you going to call that girl back? She isn't the type of girl you can just go silent on and get away with it. Trust me, I've tried."

_._._._._

Spencer sat in that same jazz bar two nights later watching Ethan play the piano. They'd just wrapped up their case in New Orleans and would be heading home soon. Or, at least, the rest of the team would be. Spencer had other plans.

Gideon came up and sat beside him, and Spencer watched, his leg crossed one on top of the other, ankle to knee.

"How'd you find me?"

"You're not all that hard to profile," Gideon told him. Spencer felt like smirking. If that was the case he'd have asked about Spencer's relationship status a while ago. "Your friend is good."

"I missed that plane on purpose."

"I know."

"I'm struggling," Spencer admitted.

"Well, anybody who's been through what you've been through recently… would." Too bad he didn't even know the half of it.

"This is all I've been groomed for. I never even—I never even considered another option," Spencer told him. Well, he had, but that option wasn't something you talk about with other people, especially not ones without the right level of security clearance. And looking back, all things considered, if this was what happened after a few years with the BAU, it would have happened a lot sooner and been a lot worse if he'd taken option number 2.

"Now you're questioning whether or not you're strong enough to be here." Spencer nodded in the affirmative.

"Yeah."

"I have been playing at this job, in one way or another, for almost thirty years," Gideon told his protégé. "I've felt lost. I've felt great. I've felt scared, sick… insane. I don't know. I guess the day this job stops gnawing at your soul, and hand… your hands stop feeling, and… Maybe that's the time to leave."

"I guess I… just needed to figure out if I could step away from this job."

"And?"

"I'll never miss another plane again. At least not after this one." Gideon turned to look at him, confused. But Spencer had already turned to look at Danny McCoy who'd just stepped out of the shadows and into his peripheral. "I'm going to need a week or two off. To get clean."

Gideon nodded, still confused, watching as Spencer stood and walked across the room to join his friend.

_._._._._

Spencer spent the first week in a discrete rehab center in Vegas under a fake name and the watchful eye of Ed Deline. During that time, while under the symptoms of withdrawal he worked on profiling some of the better known cheaters in the casinos black book, and mapping out their methods. It was something he did anyway, acting as a consultant from time to time, but it gave him something else to think of besides the fact that someone had probably already told Harley. And she hadn't called him that entire week.

He felt like shit that entire week. It was hell.

But at the end of the seven days, he felt better. He felt good. And he found himself on a plane to Hawaii at Danny's insistence. Spencer hadn't wanted to go, but counting the days, he realized that this was the week off he and Harley had talked about going on back before she started at JPAC. The week between the end of her time with JPAC and before her return to the Jeffersonian. The time for them to just be two people in love in paradise.

Spencer didn't want to get his hopes up.

Harley only stopped talking to people when she was really really pissed. And he'd never seen her impose silence on anyone for a week before.

Stepping off of the plane, and walking to baggage claim, he spotted Harley standing among the people waiting for their loved ones. She had on a pair of short cut off shorts, a loose tank top over a bikini, and her rich brown hair which was now a little longer than her shoulder blades was highlighted by sun exposure and falling around her in loose waves. She had an intricate arm cuff on one upper arm, and another on her other forearm. She smiled when she found him in the crowd.

Spencer smiled back.

He walked to her, and she throw her arms around him. She seemed to deflate in his arms. "I missed you so much, Pen."

Spencer breathed a sigh of relief. At least until her hand came up and smacked the back of her head in a move she'd learned from her mom and her Nonna. They were very physical in their method of speaking to people: swats to the back of the head told you you had been an idiot, a kick to the butt as they walk is a sort of teasing gesture, and flicks expressed irritation. And if one stabbed you in the hand with a fork, you were probably failing to steal from their plate.

"I've missed you, too," Spencer told her, cupping his hand to the back of her head. He'd take any blow she dealt as long as she still let him hold her. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize, Pen," she whispered in his ear. She had to be on the tips of her shoes to wrap her arms around his neck. Spencer wrapped one arm around the lower part of her back and lifted. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he held her with a shaky strength. He was sure that Morgan and the rest of the team would be shocked to find out that Spencer wasn't skinny, his was just lean. He didn't weight lift. He rock climbed, paddled, hiked, rode a motorcycle, could hold his own weight, and had tried almost every extreme sport at least once. His muscle was a consequence of long time exposure to Harley's life style. He probably could have passed the physical requirement now. Probably. He'd never be Morgan, but he could hold his own.

Or he could have eight months ago. He'd lost muscle mass, especially in the last three months.

"Come on. We're going to go have dinner, and then I'm taking you back to my apartment. I have someone I want you to meet."

Spencer didn't know how comfortable he was with this _someone_.

_._._._._

Spencer should have known. Honestly, it was so typical Harley.

The someone he'd been worried about? It was a dog.

An adorable dog, but a dog none the less. The dog in front of him was still a puppy, probably only six months old. A Louisiana Catahoula Leopard Dog. And a chimera at that. The dogs face was divided right down the middle with two different prints. One eye was blue, the other was almost black.

"This is Slade," Harley explained with a grin. Then, using her baby voice that was never applied toward human children, always toward animals, she continued. "His my new little buddy. I found him along a highway in a box. Isn't he pretty?"

Spencer wanted to laugh. She got another freaking dog. He really should have known. "Where is Slade going to live in DC?"

"I'm buying a house," Harley admitted. He gave her a look of confusion. This from the girl who hated moving so much that she didn't want to buy a house until they were ready to settle down. "You don't have to move in with me, but… I want this dog and my landlord already said he's going to be too big. So I'm looking into houses, and Antonio and Marco are going to do all the renovations."

"What do you have over them that they're willing to do this for you? They work out of Jersey," Spencer asked. He was still thinking over the whole "living with her" part of it. "Morgan renovates old house."

Harley looked at him, quizzically. "A magician never reveals his secrets. And since when do you want to involve your team?"

"I don't. It was just something I thought of. If the team found out about us, Morgan would be the worst with the teasing. I'd tell Hotch first, but that's because I'm pretty sure he already has his suspicions," Spencer admitted. "I want to wait another year. Hopefully by 26 they won't think I'm being rash or naïve, being in one single relationship for… I just don't want them thinking that we're too young to be this committed."

Harley grinned as she led him to her couch. "And I don't want to be looked at as another one of those girls who have one relationship and get really serious, really young. So we're good. Of course after you reveal our relationship to your team, they're going to hop on my Nonna's bandwagon. "Oh, Harley, it's been almost ten years. How is there not a ring on your finger by now?""

Spencer laughed along with Harley. Her Nonna had been trying to shove marriage down her throat since the first time she'd brought Spencer home. "Almost ten years" wasn't quite accurate, but then Nonna liked to round up to make things seem more dramatic. The old woman had only known about Spencer for the last five years.

It turned out that Danny was right. A week with Harley in paradise was exactly what he needed.

_._._._._

Spencer and Harley spent the week exploring as much of the island as they could in seven days. And not once in those seven days had either of them brought up the topic of his drug addiction. Instead Spencer found he liked Slade, a lot more than he thought he would. And he and Harley also came to an agreement about buying a house. And it helped that Harley's landlord seemed to change his mind (so long as she told anyone who asked that Slade is a psychiatric service dog for her panic disorder, or as her landlord had put it: "some sort of service dog that wears a vest or something").

He and Harley would put down for a house together. But an older one. One that would need lots of work to improve but still preserve it. One that was closer to DC. One that would probably take a year to fix up. So in the meantime, he had a year to get his affairs in order, so to speak. A year to tell his team. A year to stay sober and find a group to talk about his addiction with. A year to deal with the aftermath of his choices before he and Harley started a new chapter of their lives together. A year until the end of owning separate apartments.

They were going to own a house together. Live together without another space to go to when they needed to be away from each other. Spencer found he enjoyed that idea more than he thought he would.

Now on a flight back to DC, Spencer looked over the pictures from their trip.

Harley liked documenting things. She documented her demons and monsters in some of the best books on the market (in Spencer's opinion, at least, which should be considered an expert opinion due to how many books he read a year). And she used scrapbooks to document the good things in her life. She had at least a dozen scrapbooks at home, all about different important parts of her life. A family scrapbook. A holiday scrapbook. An adventure scrapbook. The list went on. Spencer's personal favorite was the scrapbook SR+HI. It was their scrapbook with all of the letters they'd written each other in college, all of the notes they'd left each other over the years, and all of the tickets stubs of places they'd been together.

The pictures from Hawaii would be divided between their scrapbook and the Adventure book.

He held her hand in his as they flew. They were two hours into a nine and a half hour flight. The plan was that someone would be picking them up from the airport, and then they'd booth spend the night at Harley's apartment.

"So," Harley started, still turned to face the window, "what drug was it?"

Spencer had figured she already knew and that's why they hadn't talked about it. He should have known better. Harley had made sure that they'd had one week of bliss, untainted by the toils and hardships of the real world, before they both returned to daily life. So instead she waited until the week was over to deal with the hard questions, and do it in an environment that Spencer couldn't run away from her in. He should have known, considering it's something Harley always does. She doesn't crack out the hard questions until the sunshine and rainbows part is over. She didn't tell him that she was going on a three month mission trip one year until after the holidays, about a week before she was supposed to leave for Pohnpei. And she didn't tell him that she was offered a place in Stanford's anthropology department until she'd already decided on the Jeffersonian a week after he told her he was joining the BAU. So why would his drug addiction change her MO.

"Dilauded. Hospital heroine," Spencer replied softly. "Tobias Hankel gave it to me after one of his alternate personalities, the one of his father, beat me."

"Why did you continue to take it?" Harley asked, just as softly, and still without looking at him. "What made you want to…?"

"I was already one the track to being addicted by the time I got free, but… Tobias wasn't the bad guy. It was just the other personalities that overpowered him. I never blamed him. I just felt bad for him. And I felt… I don't know… guilty that he was dead I guess. And you weren't home so I felt like I didn't have you to talk to as much anymore. You were just… you were gone for a really long time, and I thought I could handle it, and I did for a while, but… I got kidnapped and brutalized, and you weren't there. And I started to think about it, and if it had been you, I would have dropped everything to be there for you. And I guess I just didn't understand why the same didn't apply in reverse," Spencer explained. "And then your family stopped coming by, and Schrodinger started acting like himself again, and I just felt really alone. Like I felt after my dad left."

Harley turned to him with the most heartbroken expression he'd ever seen on her face. "You should have told me, Pen. Instead you just kept telling me that you were fine and that I didn't need to worry, and that I should stay at JPAC. I mean, I knew you weren't fine, but… Pen, you're the man I love, and one of the things I love about you is that you never felt the need to lie to me or hide the truth. I expected that if there was something that was really wrong, you'd tell me. And you didn't. And I know that I should have gotten on a plane and come straight back home, but I figured I only needed to finish at JPAC and then all of my credits would be completed and all I'd have to do would be to finish my theses. And I wouldn't have to keep going back and forth with school, and I could just be with you for as long as we could. I just, I wanted to be done with school so we could both move on from it and work on establishing ourselves in our fields. Together. I know now that that was stupid of me, but… I honestly thought that you'd tell me if you needed me. I don't care what's going on, Pen. If you need me, you know I'll be there."

Spencer nodded, squeezing her hand.

"I think we should establish some rules."

Spencer was confused, watching as Harley reached down to her purse on the floor and picked up her purse. She withdrew a note pad and a pen, flipping it open to an empty page. They'd never had rules before, and Spencer was confused about what Harley thought she was doing by making some now.

"Rule number one. No matter what is going on, you call, I come. Rule number two…"

"A four month traveling limit on any travel without the other present. No more than four months away from one another," Spencer smiled, seeing where she was going with this. It was like a contract or marriage vow. In fact, Harley had even titled the page "The Vows."

"Okay, good. Rule number three…" Harley smiled, jotting the rules down as they went.

They spent a good amount of time jotting down rule after rules, as well as discussing some of them as they went along. Harley had been right, after all. They did need rules. She explained it to him after they'd written down the last of the.

"We aren't an I, or a me, or a myself, Spencer. We're an us, a we, a they. What I do impacts your life, and what you do effects mine. We need to be more aware of it. It's a byproduct of our relationship. We need to think about how the dissensions we make about our lives impacts the others, okay? It's the only why this relationship is going to work in the long run. We need to be able to sit down and talk things over, and look at the bigger picture," Harley explained. "I can't go running off to parts unknown for months at a time, and you can't just shut me out because I'm not with you in the heat of the moment. If something is wrong we need to be able to trust the other enough to know they'll tell us. I want to believe that if something is going on with you that you're secure enough in our relationship to tell me what it is. And the revers has to apply as well. It's the only way this relationship is going to last for as long as we both want it to."

"I don't want to grow old with anybody else," Spencer admitted.

"Neither do I, which is why this is important now. We can't let the little things break us, Pen. So what do we need to do so that you trust me enough to know that not even something like a drug addiction could make me want to leave you?" Harley asked, placing her other hand over their interlaced fingers.

"I don't know," Spencer whispered, pulling her hands towards him so he could kiss the back of one of her hands.

"Well, you need to figure it out, Pen," Harley told him, looking him in the eye. "There's nothing we can do about it if we don't know what the problem is."

Spencer nodded.

The rest of the plane ride home was relatively quiet afterwards as they both basked in each other's presents. Spencer thought, and Harley wrote with her free hand, her left hand. And it really got Spencer thinking about how they were two parts to the whole picture. One was left handed, the other was right handed. One was older and the other younger (only by a few months, but long enough so that Harley had been able to joke that she was still a teen while he was a twenty something, and so that he could throw it right back at her, a year later, that he could legally drink alcohol and gamble). One was a field agent, and the other was a scientist in a forensics lab. One feared the loss of their mind, and the other feared a hundred different things. They were different and yet the same. They complimented one another in some places, and mirrored each other in others.

It was why they worked so well together, Spencer hypothesized. Because, while they had their differences, they understood one another in ways no one else had ever been able to. And it was that understanding, mixed with years of knowing each other that made them who they were as a couple.

Honestly, though, Spencer couldn't imagine himself ever finding anyone who made him happier than Harley.

He didn't even think he wanted to.

" _I used to think that finding the right one was about the man having a list of certain qualities. If he has them, we'd be compatible and happy. Sort of a checkmark system that was a complete failure. But I found out that a healthy relationship isn't so much about sense of humor or intelligence or attractive. It's about avoiding partners with harmful traits and personality types. And then it's about being with a good person. A good person on his own, and a good person with you. Where the space between you feels uncomplicated and happy. A good relationship is where things just work. They work because, whatever the list of qualities, whatever the reason, you happen to be really, really good together."_

― Deb Caletti, _The Secret Life of Prince Charming_

* * *

 **Thank you, to all of you who have favorited, followed, and reviewed my story! It's so encouraging to see how many people like it, and I love hearing what all of you have to say!**

 **Please, please, please keep reviewing. I really want to know what you think about this story. And I'd love to hear what you think some of the rules should be. I'm going to bring it back again in a couple chapters, and I'd love to have your input.**

 **Thank you for reading. And for any of you already back at school, or on your way back to school, I'm so sorry that summer is already over!**


	8. Chapter 8: April 2007

**Authors Note: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy. And please review at the end. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley.**

 **Oh, and if any of you can figure out the significance of Harley's name, and he pets names, please tell me. It's going to be coming up in later chapters, and there's sort of an interesting relation ship between her name and where that name comes from. So, if you can figure out the allusion or whatever it is that goes with her names, please tell me. I want to see how many of you can make the connection.**

* * *

Chapter 8: April 2007

" _There are three possible parts to a date, of which at least two must be offered: entertainment, food, and affection. It is customary to begin a series of dates with a great deal of entertainment, a moderate amount of food, and the merest suggestion of affection. As the amount of affection increases, the entertainment can be reduced proportionately. When the affection IS the entertainment, we no longer call it dating. Under no circumstances can the food be omitted."_

― Judith Martin

Spencer had been sober for almost two months now. He'd just gotten back from a case out in Baltimore involving the Russian mob. Harley was a month away from her third and fourth doctorates. And she was finding out that she'd missed an eventful few months at the Jeffersonian's Medical-Legal lab (they'd reached the conclusion of their time with Howard Epps related cases, and they'd crossed paths with a serial killer called the Gravedigger). And a case involving a couple of hit-men from Baltimore had taken up a good chunk of her week.

Currently, Spencer and Harley where set to meet up at Founding Fathers for a date night. He'd gotten a little bit more dressed up than usual, and he was seated at a table meant for four. It was late on a Thursday so it wasn't crowded, but Harley was still running late, even at the late hour. They'd had a case involving a hitman at the lab, and Harley, having grown up in a mob involved family was always fascinated with cases like that. He knew she'd be here soon, but he'd also known it was likely she'd have been late to begin with. He should have anticipated that.

So here he was, sitting alone at a table meant for four. Waiting.

"Spencer!"

He turned to see Haley Hotchner coming his way with Hotch following behind her not looking happy. Which was kind of his go-to expression. Haley on the other hand was smiling, and looking pleased to see him. "Mrs. Hotchner. It's nice to see, but… Um, what are you doing here?"

"Aaron and I are having a date night while my sister babysits Jack. What are you doing here? Waiting for someone?" Haley asked with a grin. "A date perhaps?"

"Haley…" Hotch seemed to warn her, coming up behind her. "Reid."

"Hotch," Spencer greeted his boss. "I'm actually—"

"I'm so sorry I'm late Pen," Harley apologized, coming up behind him and bending down to give him a chaste kiss before sitting down in the seat next to him. Harley had on a navy blue skin tight dress that went to her knees, with a slit in the back up to her mid-thigh. It was off the shoulder with sleeves that went to her elbows. She had on a pair of cream, ankle strap platform heels, a pearl necklace and her hair down in loose curls. "I just got so entrained by this last case I—Hello."

She seemed to have just caught on to the presents of two other people.

"Hi, I don't think we've meet before. I'm Dr. Harley Isley," Harley smiled, extending a hand out towards Hayley. "I'm Spencer's… uh…"

She was now looking in his direction, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

"Girlfriend," Spencer finished, shrinking back in his chair. "Harley this is my boss Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, and his wife Haley."

Hayey grinned. "I didn't know Spencer had a girlfriend. How recent is—"

"Haley," Hotch interrupted, staring at Harley. He'd seen her before, he knew it. But where had he seen her before?

"We've actually been together since we were 18," Spencer told her, reaching to grab Harley's hand as a security blanket.

"We'll be celebrating our eighth year together in November," Harley told the married pair with a grin. "And, Agent Hotchner, you saw me last year during your Fisher King case. Although, I'm pretty sure you thought I was a prostitute. Which, considering I was dressed for Vegas rather than DC, I don't blame you for it."

Haley looked between the others, looking… amused. "A prostitute?"

"Plunging neck line. Painted on jeans. Stripper heels," Harley clarified. Then with a grin, she added: "It's happed before. You're welcome to join us. Unless you already have other plan. Then you're welcome to continue with those."

Haley laughed, taking the open seat beside Spencer. Hotch looked worried. "Sit, Aaron. So do you mind if I ask, where do you work? I just, don't know what to imagine Spencer's girlfriend doing for a living."

"I'm an assistant at the Jeffersonian's Medical-Legal lab to the forensic anthropologist there while I finish my doctoral theses," Harley explained. Spencer could tell that Hotch was just as uncomfortable with this as he was. And for some reason, Harley was acting like a social person for once. Her usual introvert nature was covered in a cloak of false extroverted behavior, and Spencer couldn't understand why. Maybe it was just to play with Spencer. Maybe she was finally just tired of being the closet girlfriend. Okay, that last one wasn't likely, but why was she doing this? "Once I get my theses, though, I'm kind of out of a job. The Jeffersonian already has two Forensic Anthropologists, and I can't imagine them hiring another."

"Theses? So you're working on more than one doctorate?" Hotch asked, suddenly getting into this impromptu interrogation. If Spencer hadn't known better, he'd almost have thought this was planned.

"Two," Harley nodded. "Forensic Anthropology and Bioarcheology."

"She already has two PhDs in Environmental Science and Forensic Science. So it won't be too hard to find another job," Spencer added. "Although Harley is going to miss working at the Jeffersonian."

"I don't know about that. NCIS's headquarters in the Navy Yard is looking for a replacement to one of their retiring Forensic Scientists. And if I accept the job offer, I'll get to work in the same building as Tony. He's a good friend of mine and the fraternity brother of one of my cousins, which basically makes him family," Harley explained. Tony was Harley's best friend. He was Harley's back up date to events when Spencer couldn't make it, and he was Spencer's Derek Morgan outside of work. He got Spencer involved in normal people things, including his weekly pick-up game of basketball with some local frat bothers every Sunday. Tony's a good guy. One of the best. "They kind of owe me that one since I almost got the plague while being in their building back in '05."

Haley and Hotch balked at her. At the time he had, too. Tony had almost died of the plague, and Harley had sat by him through his treatment, and for the week following as he recovered. They'd given him a 15% chance of surviving, at the time. Harley had been right across the bullpen from him when he'd opened and blown into an envelope filled with y-pestis. Harley regaled the table with the table of Tony's near death experience and her 36 hours spent with him and his partner, Kate, in an isolation chamber while Tony received medical treatment.

After Harley was done with her story, they'd already gotten drinks, and where just short of having their orders taken. As soon as Harley's story ended, Hotch picked up with one of his own stories of a case he prosecuted. They were laughing as their orders where being taken.

The two couples ended up having dinner together with Harley offering to babysit Jack anytime they needed by the end of it. Harley and Haley ended up getting on like white on rice, and Spencer figured it had to do with the fact that Haley is very reminiscent of the wives of many of her cousins. Spencer still felt strange by the end of the dinner about sitting across from his boss in this impromptu double date. But Hotch seemed to like Harley, so Spencer counted that as a success.

They walked out of the restaurant together, and headed to their cars.

"Reid," Hotch calls out just after they split up. "You never did say why you kept her a secret."

"We've been together since we were 18. You can't tell me that Morgan or JJ wouldn't have something to say about that," Spencer shrugged.

"But Gideon set you on a date with JJ?" Hotch asked, confused. "And you went along with it. Was he that far off the mark?"

"I had a crush on JJ, sure, but I had no plans to act on it. Gideon forced my hand so I faked a bad date. It wasn't that hard," Spencer shrugged. "Besides, Harley and I both go on dates with other people all the time. As long as nothing happens, than it's fine. Watching the Redskins play football, though, I don't know what he was thinking with that. I'll coach sports, sure, and sometimes I'll even play them, but I really hate watching them."

Harley turned and laughed into his chest from her position under his arm. Hotch was just looking at him like he was a whole new person. He was having some realization about his lack of knowledge into his agents' personal life. He'd kept his mom a secret from the team, and to now find out that he'd also managed to hide a girlfriend made him wonder what else the team's genius was hiding from them.

"So Gideon doesn't know?" Hotch wanted clarified as Hayley tugged on his arm, wanting him to just let the other agent go home.

"Haven't told him," Spencer called back, as he turned and walked away with Harley under his arm. "Never came up."

Hotch snorted, watching Spencer walk away with Harley for a little longer before turning with Haley and walking towards their own car. They did have a babysitter to go home and liberate, after all.

He didn't even realize that the motorcycle that veered past him as he turned on his car later was his own agent and the agents newly revealed girlfriend. Spencer smiled behind his helmet as he did. If only Hotch really knew just how much of a mask Spencer wore at work.

_._._._._

The next day at work, Spencer got called up to Hotch's office. He walked up the stairs ignoring the looks he got from Emily and Morgan, and stopped in the door way. Hotch was sitting at his desk and looked at Spencer with his usual expression. "Shut the door and sit down. I want to talk about last night."

Spencer complied, not sure if he should draw the blinds while he was at. Instead he shut the door and sat down in the chair on the other side of Hotch's desk from his boss. "What about last night?"

"I've been wondering how much of your life your hiding from the team now that two of your secrets have been uncovered," Hotch told him, staring him in the eye. "But that isn't what I called you up here to talk about. Do you think you could work with Dr. Isley, should a case come up that requires her expertise?"

Spencer frowned, trying to understand what he meant by that. "I don't understand what you mean by that."

"I'm talking about cases in Harley's expertise. If we were to bring her along as a consultant to help identify the victims and find cause of death faster," Hotch clarified. "Do you think the two of you could work together?"

"Yes," Spencer nodded. "Harley and I can work together in a professional capacity."

"Good. So tell me about her. I didn't learn all that much about her outside of her degrees last night," Hotch told him. "I want to know more about her before I make the request with Chief Straus. And I figure you probably know more about her than her personnel file."

"What do you want to know, exactly?"

"Her parents, what do they do?"

"Kieran Isley and Bianca Moretti. Her father is a film director. And no one ever talks about what her mom does outside of occasionally working as a costume director for Kieran's films, but considering who some of her old work associates are, I'd say she is or was CIA," Spencer shrugged, feeling uncomfortable with this question. "They adopted Harley when she was five. They'd fostered her a year before the adoption and she'd been in foster care a year before that. I don't know about her life before that. I don't know if Harley does either."

Hotch frowned. "Siblings?"

"Declan Isley. He's a photographer and a documentary film maker. I'm pretty sure he's living in Alaska right now. He likes living in really remote places. He's about ten years older than Harley. He's actually the one who named her," Spencer explained, looking at his hands. He was really uncomfortable going into detail about Declan because Declan is the supper private type, and it just doesn't feel right talking about Declan on top of Harley. "She has a lot of cousins she close to as well."

Hotch nodded. "Where did she go to school?"

"She home school until she got her G.E.D. at 13, and then she went to a lot of colleges for specific degree programs and course work. There wasn't just one school she went to. Her file would be a better reference, because I'm pretty sure Harley just gave me a shot list of schools when she told me."

"How did the two of you met?"

"We were pen pals since the age 14. At 18 we met up in an airport in New Zealand. And then we spent a week there together. And then we both ended up in Virginia at 21," Spencer summarized.

"Any conflicts of interest?"

"Only when it comes to the Italian Mafia or the Irish Mob. She's probably related to half of them," Spencer shrugged. It was true, too. Gio and Antonio had nothing to do with the mob, but the rest of her family was pretty shady. And he's pretty sure her Nonno is on someone's watch list.

Hotch nodded. "Anything else?"

"Not off the top of my head, but if she ends up at NCIS, you can have fun trying to pry her away from them. They don't share their assets well. The FBI has been trying to steal one of their scientists for years with no success. I hardly think Harley will be any different. The only way we can get her as a consultant is if she stays with the Jeffersonian or another such institution," Spencer told him. "Am I free to leave now?"

"Go ahead," Hotch nodded.

Spencer had to spend the rest of the day dodging questions from Emily and Morgan after coming down from Hotch's office. And he still felt uncomfortable with disclosing details about Harley and her family. Especially since Harley never talked about or mentioned the fact she'd been adopted. She'd been raised as an Isley, she'd never even gone looking for her biological parents to his knowledge, and she hadn't even been the one to tell him she was adopted. Her father had told him. Disclosing it to Hotch was the right thing to do, but it just felt wrong. It wasn't what Harley wanted.

He sort of felt guilty for even mentioning it.

_._._._._

That night, instead of going to his own apartment, Spencer wound up at Harley's door. It was the third Friday of the month, which wasn't one of Spencer's days with Harley, but he was pretty sure that Harley wouldn't mind adding him in.

He knocked on the door, heard the scamper of paws with a few yips and he waited. He didn't have to. With the security on the building, Harley rarely locked the door when she was there if she wasn't sleeping. Harley open the door a minute later. She was wearing a tight long sleeve with the buttons in the front and sleeves pushed to her elbows, and a pair of flannel shorts. Her hair was twisted up into a bun on the top of her head, and her makeup was completely washed off. The pair of fuzzy socks she had on her feet probably let her slip all over her wood floored apartment.

"Hey, I didn't know you'd be by," Harley smiled. Slade and Black Canary were behind her, with her feet actively keeping them away from the door. "You bring some PJ's?"

Spencer nodded, holding up his go bag. Harley let him in with a sweeping gesture, with Slade, the oversized puppy, and BC, the pint sized ankle bitter, running to him. He stepped over them into the apartment as Harley shut the door behind him and skipped off to the kitchen. Spencer kicked off his shoes into the bottom of Harley's wooden crate shoe rack.

Harley's apartment was basically divided into fourths, just without the walls. Her bedroom was one fourth of the apartment, the entry, laundry, closet and bathroom space making up another forth, the kitchen on a raised platform two steps up from the rest of the apartment, and the final fourth consisted of her living room. The stairs to the loft was on the back side of the kitchen area, along the wall, and took up a half of the apartment, spanning over the entry and bedroom.

Most of the walls in the apartment were brick, and the rest were a soft cream. Her apartment was a corner apartment with large windows that let in lots of light. Harley loved the view from her apartment at night. She hung lots of lanterns and crystals in front of the widows so that during the day, the light that came in was multicolored. A lot of her furniture was made of recycled wood, and custom built by Antonio.

Spencer followed Harley as she moved into the kitchen. Tony was already there, in his silk pajamas as he cooked in the kitchen. Harley went back to preparing whatever she'd been making for the oven.

The third Friday of the month was Harley and Tony's movie and/or video game night. They'd always go to one apartment, cook dinner together, and stay up late into the night either watching movies or playing a video game. Normally, he wasn't in town for the third Friday, so he didn't really care to show up anyway, but now… He just really needed to talk to Harley.

"Look who decided to show up," Harley smiled at Tony as Spencer walked into the kitchen. Slade had retreated to the couch, and BC was still wagging her tail in the vicinity of Spencer's feet. "Go get dressed. The pasta should be done by the time you come back."

"Good to see you, Spencer," Tony smiled, as he stirred the spaghetti in the large pot on the stove. It was next to the even larger pot of spaghetti sauce that Harley had been working on for the past few days. It was a three day sauce that tasted ridiculously good, and that her Nonna had brought over from her childhood home in Sicily. "You joining us for movie night? We're watching some old gangster movies."

"Sounds good," Spencer nodded, before heading into Harley's bedroom to change. When he came back out of the bedroom in his flannel pajama pants, and a loose CalTech t-shirt, Harley and Tony where serving up the pasta with a roll of garlic bread that Harley had likely made earlier in the day. "Dinner smells good."

He received grins from Harley and Tony in return. Tony passed him a plate across the divided of the bar. Harley's kitchen was set up in a U shape, opening towards the living room with the U only interrupted by a missing cabinet where the stairs opened up in the corner. There was and T shaped island in the middle of the U shape, with top side of the T being a higher standing bar top with three bar stools. Seeing as Harley rarely had more than two other people in the apartment at one time, this worked in place of having a table set up. The shorter part of the T shaped island was used for extra counter space and Harley's extra storage. Mostly it was just used in place of a pantry.

Harley moved to her herb garden along the out facing wall in the kitchen. It was one of Spencer's favorite parts of Harley's entire apartment. In Harley's little bohemian/industrial apartment, the old tea boxes along the windowed wall and the suspended 2x8 a foot above with tea cups that were all used as an herb garden was Spencer's favorite part. Mostly, because the tea boxes were all vintage and Spencer had brought her back a new one after most of his first cases with the BAU. The tea cups had been given to her by her by her aunts, cousins, and cousins' wives when she'd bought the apartment as a house warming gift. It was just a whimsical little decoration in the apartment, but Spencer loved it. Mostly because the plants where all watered by an automated watering system set up by her cousin, Rosaline, because, despite Harley's PhD in environmental science, she couldn't keep plants alive even if she tried.

It was just sort of ironic. That the girl who couldn't keep plants alive, had a flourishing herb garden. It couldn't get any more ironic even if Shakespeare had written it.

Harley came back with a few basil leaves to garnish the tops of the spaghetti heaps. "So, boys. The rules of the third Friday of the month apply now. Let's eat, and then drown our thoughts in old gangster movies and some good vino."

There were only two rules for the night of the third Friday of the month. No shop talk. And no mentioning anything that will dampen the mood. Spencer didn't know which rule telling Harley that Hotch had been asking questions about her would fall under, but either way, it was totally against the rules now. Which means now, he didn't have to tell her until morning. That may just be a good thing.

"Ah, the vino," Spencer smiled, moving to pull a few glasses from a cupboard, and a bottle of wine from the wine rack/back splash/under-the-stairs space. There where at least 10 bottles of wine as well as a little more than a few bottles of other liquors in the many diamond shaped slots. Harley didn't drink often, so most of the wines where either for cooking with or for the few times Harley did drink. The wine he'd grabbed was a nice Chianti. Harley grinned at his choice as he poured the wine into the three glasses. He handed two off to Harley and Tony before corking the wine and taking his glass to his own bar stool where his plate of spaghetti was waiting.

Harley grinned, holding up her glass. "Salute!"

"Salute!" Tony and Spencer chimed, clinking their glasses against hers.

As they ate their meal, Tony, Harley, and Spencer debated the best gangster movie of all time, their favorite notorious mobsters, and the best new movie out in theaters. Harley talked about the new movie her father was directing. Tony talked about some plans he and his frat brothers where making for a vacation this summer. And Spencer talked about some research that had just come out that he'd read about. He knew Tony wasn't really following on that last part, but Harley seemed interested. Or she faked it well enough, at least.

Spencer'd learned that Tony hadn't been around for the worst of it because he'd been dealing with something that had taken up most of his time for those months. Including his boss being close to an explosion and getting a case of amnesia that had temporarily knocked him back to right after his wife and child's death 15 years previous. Following that, his boss had taken a four month Mexican sabbatical, leaving Tony in charge of an uncooperative team. And added into all of that was the undercover assignment that Harley ended up whispering in his ear about. Spencer couldn't blame Tony for not being there in his time of darkness.

Then at the end of their meal, they packed up the left overs, washed and dried the dishes, and climbed the stairs to the loft. The loft was a library office space. It was where all of Harley's books, CDs, and DVDs where stored. Along with the wall to wall bookshelves, a desk with a rolling chair, a daybed, a lounge chair, and a hammock set up between two poles. There was a pull down screen hung over the railing of the loft, and a projector stationed on one of the shelves in the bookshelf. Spencer sat down on the lounge, Tony took the daybed, and Harley climbed into the hammock as soon as she got the first film rolling.

By the third movie, Harley and Spencer had claimed the daybed, and Tony was laying on the lounge chair. By the fourth, all three of them where half way to falling asleep. And by the fifth, Spencer was the only one still awake. Spencer put on _The Third Wave_ as soon as the credits rolled on _Scarface_. Harley was curled up into a ball on one edge of the daybed with her favorite throw blanket tangled around her feet. Tony was stretched out over the lounge with a knit blanket that Harley's aunt Tia had given her. BC had climbed the stairs to the loft and was sleeping between Tony's legs. Slade was stretched out on the floor next to Harley. It almost felt like family. Harley was his girl, and Tony was like an annoying older brother. It felt good. Moreover, it felt like home…

And it was only just now, that Spencer realized he'd never known that feeling before Harley. He and his father had never really connected, and his mother was mentally absent for a good portion of his childhood. And he'd never exactly felt like he belonged somewhere before. Harley made him feel all of those things that he had never felt before. She brought out the best him he could be.

And Spencer wanted to worship Harley for that.

She gave him all of the things he'd never had before.

He feel asleep with an arm around Harley in the middle of his favorite gangster movie feeling a lot more self-aware than he had in a while.

Spencer, Harley, and Tony spent the rest of the weekend together. They went rock climbing at an indoor rock climbing center, and played basketball with Tony's friends. They laughed, and goofed off, and pushed each other's buttons like nobody else knew how. They acted like they were young teens rather than adults who had seen and dealt with some of the worst of the world. And they had the best weekend that Spencer had had in a while. The only drawback at the end of the weekend was that Spencer still hadn't told Harley about Hotch's questions.

Oh well, Spencer decided. There would still be other weekends to come, and other times to tell Harley. But for now, they enjoyed themselves more than they'd been able to all year. It hadn't been the best year for any of the three. And the year still wasn't over. But this one weekend gave Spencer more motive to continue on down the path he was going.

And that was all he'd never realized he'd needed.

" _I don't understand dating… and the other things that people do… all I know is that you ought to find the one you recognize. The one who gives you four arms, four legs, four eyes, and has the other half of your heart. There's only one of those, so what are all the other things for? Like dating?"_

― C. JoyBell C.

* * *

 **REALLY REALLY IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!**

 **Author's Note: Hey, all. So since my last update to this story, the traffic counter for this story has completely stalled at the amount of views this story had before Chapter 7 went up. And thanks to those of you who have reviewed, favorited, and fallowed this story since Chapter 7 was posted (a big thank you to all of you who did that, you honestly don't know how much I love you for that right now. Especially those of you who sent in reviews about my last chapter), I know there was traffic on this story. So, my question for you is, do any of you know how I fix that? I already sent in an e-mail to Fanfictions support, and nothing has changed, so if any of you have gone through something similar, could you please tell me how your problem got fixed?**

 **And before I end this author's note, do any of you have any ideas on any more vow/rules I could add to Harley and Spencer's list? I really want you feed back.**

 **Please review. I know I don't send individual messages back to all of you who do send in reviews, but I love hearing back from you. And everyone's thoughts help me out figuring out what to do with Harley and Spencer next.**

 **Much love and thanks. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	9. Chapter 9: September 2007

**Authors Note: Sorry for not writing in so long, but I got a nasty cold/flu, and now I'm swamped with the back to school prep that comes with going to college 10 hours away from home. Classes start up again Monday for me, but I've been trying to get this chapter done for all of you before then. I hope you enjoy, and I thank all of you for your patents. For those who followed, favorited, or even started reading this story during the time between the last chapter and now, thank you so much for taking the time to look at my story. For those of you who reviewed, reading what you had to say was totally a motivation to get this chapter out before getting back into the swing of school life.**

 **For any of you already back at college, or on the way to being back at college, and away from family and home, just know that you are so not alone in that right now. And for those of you who may even be sending children or siblings back right now, it's only been hours since my mom left and I totally miss her already. I hate it when people ask me if I'm glad to be going back. The answer is always no. No one enjoys going back to school. You enjoy it when you're in the middle of it, but the going back part really sucks, and adults always look at me like "Why the hell aren't you happy to be going back?" No matter what is going on at home or how much I want to get away from my dad, going back to school is never any less shitty. If anything, it's gotten shittier, because that whole thing of packing everything back up and making sure I have everything I need before I'm back to school, and then unpacking everything, making sure every arrangement is made and in place, and then having to say good bye to loved ones for however long until I see them again always seems to leave me on the edge of a panic attack or an episode of depression, and either way, I kind of just want to cry at the end of it all. Kind of makes me miss the simplicity of just buying school supplies, and walking home from school every day. So for all of you out there at college, my heart goes out to you.**

 **By the way, do any of you attend my college? Pacific Union College? And if not, do any of you mind telling me what college you go to? It's like this weird fascination of mine.**

 **Any who, on to the usual disclaimer: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy. And please review at the end. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley. And if you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, I may not use them, but I'd like to hear them, because I'm kind of stuck on trying to figure out how the rest of the team finds out about them. All together or one at a time? I have some ideas floating around, but nothing really concrete, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions you send my way. Message me, or leave your idea in the review section, I'll be looking at both.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and support, now on with the chapter…**

Chapter 9: Spetember 2007

" _Friendship isn't about whom you have known the longest…it's about who came, and never left your side."_

-Anonymous

When Gideon left the team fallowing the case on the college campus, he couldn't have realized what the upheaval Spencer was already in the middle of. At the beginning of the summer, his friend Tony had almost been killed by a car bomb during an undercover op. and instead just ended up getting his heart broken and latter, accused of murder. On top of that, his friend Danny from Vegas had been recalled to from being an inactive reservist in the Marines to being deployed with only 24 hour notice, and Harley, newly unemployed from the Jeffersonian after getting her two new PhDs and not wanting to work at NCIS without Tony, had been out in Vegas to help the Montecito's surveillance and security team collect themselves in the wake of his absence and a few other changes going on in the hotel, such as the new owner to the casino. She'd only just gotten back and had yet to accept any of the offers she had in terms of employment. And his mother was in the middle of changing her meds. And with all of the time Harley had been gone for, they hadn't made much progress on the whole _moving-in-together-in-a-year_ idea they'd come up with in February (meaning they'd really just hit a standstill). Heck, they hadn't even bought a house yet because they hadn't agreed on any houses they'd looked at before Harley had gone to Vegas for three months, and Spencer had become too busy with work to try and look at houses without her. Life hadn't been all sunshine and daisies in the last few months, and Gideon leaving was just the cheery on top. Plus there was Chief Straus's witch hunt to remove Hotch from the FBI (of course he knows about that. You can't hide things like that from someone who remembers everything they see. He's like Sherlock Holmes or Dumbledore. You just can't hide things like that from him).

Being the one to go out to Gideon's cabin and finding his resignation letter, badge, gun, and the letter he'd left Spencer, wasn't even the worst part of his week at this point. Some jerk had grabbed Harley's ass right in front of him the other night when they were celebrating Harley's return home at a bar. Spencer had gone to punch him but Harley's knee beat him to it. Still, Spencer had punch the guy for good measure. And they'd gotten kicked out for the night as their friends had laughed and cheered. And Gideon's departure put an abrupt stop to the plan he'd had to go away for the weekend with Harley and actually act like people their age with her brother and a few friends.

Spencer retreated to Harley's apartment and walked in the unlocked doors without knocking. It was late at night, and Spencer figured that maybe Harley was already asleep. Instead he found her sitting at her kitchen island with a glass of wine, a large pillow fort set up in her living room area. She must have watched the kids from down the hall earlier. The color coded, two year old identical twins and their five year old brother were frequent visitors, and Spencer could always tell when they'd been by because there was always a pillow fort left up in their wake from imaginary adventures Harley took them on. She should really think about writing children's books one of these days.

"Hey," Harley turned to grin at him when she noticed him walking in. That grin swiftly dropped when she got a look at his face. "What happened?"

"Gideon left the BAU," Spencer explained, walking over to her and sitting in one of the unoccupied bar stools. He turned so that he could look at the pillow fort as he stole her glass of wine and took a large gulp. The pillow fort was empty, as the kids had probably been picked up and carried away by their parents an hour or so ago. Harley had been in the middle of crocheting… something. She'd been forced to learn to knit and crochet at a young age by her Irish aunts who felt her mother wasn't raising her to be a proper little girl. Of course this is from women who compete to be the best cook and have the cleanest windows on the block, so of course they had different ideas on raising girls than her possibly CIA agent mother.

Harley watched him eye the pillow fort. "Didn't have many of those growing up, did you?"

Spencer turned to look at her, confused as to how she knew.

"Pen, you didn't have many friends growing up. And, remember, I've met your mom. I can bet that pillow forts aren't the only thing you missed out on growing up," Harley sighed, leaving her crochet project on the island, and leaning into his shoulder. "You know what you need? One night where we forget we're adults, and pretend like we aren't geniuses. You need one night where you can experience all the stuff you missed out on. Coloring books, pillow forts, Disney movies, kids' books, and Legos."

"I had Legos growing up," Spencer announced, slightly offended.

"Did you ever create something with those Legos besides what the instructions told you to make?" Harley asked, skeptically. When he didn't respond, she smirked. And then she frowned a little. _Okay, so this one time it really didn't feel all that great to be right._ "See. You need this. Gideon was your mentor, and your dad was your father, and they both left in the night. They're jerks. So think of tonight as going back in time to childhood, and correcting all the things you missed out on when you were a kid. Maybe its fifteen years too late, but it's this or I'm going to have to borrow the three tiny monsters, and sick them on you."

Spencer laughed at the empty threat. She wouldn't get her cousins triplets, because she'd be subjected to their terror as well. "Where are you going to get all of these things?"

Spencer closed his eyes immediately after saying it. It was a stupid question. Of course Harley had all of this. Her inner child was had never been squashed down, and had over thrown the adult part of her as the major controller of her behavior. If it reminded her of her childhood or made her feel like a child, she probably had it. Plus, with the amount of cousins she had under 12, it wasn't like she was the only one who used them.

"You want to withdraw that question?" Harley asked, and he could feel her shaking with laughter against him.

"Please."

"Alright them. Let me go grab somethings, and we'll met back under the pillow fort when we're both in our PJs. I figure there's enough pillows and blankets down there that we can sleep there tonight," Harley nodded to herself, hoping down from her seat and climbing the stair to the loft. "And maybe we can rebuild so the opening faces the TV."

The TV was pressed up against the wall dividing her bedroom from the living area, with a large sectional in the corner of the room with large windows above it. A large rug sat in the middle of the floor, and the coffee table looked to be missing from the room. The love-seat on the other hand seemed to make up one wall of the fort with a few chairs that were missing from the small dining table.

A thought occurred to Spencer. "Hey, where are the dogs?"

"Oh, Slade's sleeping in the bedroom, the kids really wore him out, and I'm pretty sure BC's still hiding in the closet. I think she has PTSD from her stay at Antonio's. Poor little thing," Harley told him, already half way up the stairs.

It was going to be an interesting night. That's for sure. Spencer didn't doubt it for a second.

_._._._._

"I don't want to hear about the things you see as being wrong with the movie. So it doesn't follow the original story or myth. So what. You don't tell kids that in the real story the step-sisters cut off their toes and heels and got their eyes pecked out by birds, or that the princess was raped by the king, or that there wasn't really a happy ever after," Harley laughed as the credits rolled on the third consecutive Disney movie they'd watched. "It's just a dumbed down, child friendly, unrealistic standard of beauty movie. Just… shut up. You can rant about it all you want in the morning. For now, act like a kid, and think of it as a spin off, or something."

"I'm just saying," Spencer grinned as he looked at Harley in the adult sized footsie pajamas he had no idea she'd owned, with a bit of marshmallow in the corner of her mouth from the s'mores they'd made using her oven and a bag of marshmallows that appeared from the depths of her candy stash earlier, "that—"

"SHH!" She giggled, putting one of her marshmallow covered fingers to his lips. "In the morning. That was the deal. Now do you want to watch the Jungle Book or Lion King next?"

They'd already watched Dumbo, Sleeping Beauty, and Hercules. And Spencer was pretty sure the sun would be rising in a few hours. They'd constructed a Lego kingdom, filled an entire Mad-Libs book, and colored more than a few pages in one of the coloring books she'd produced. They'd even moved the pillow fort up to the loft because it was easier than carrying everything else down. Plus, Spencer figured Harley just really wanted to spend the night in her hammock considering she'd barely left it since they'd stopped playing with the Legos.

"I don't know," Spencer smirked, rolling onto his back and looking around. Two things caught his eye, and they just so happened to be sitting right next to each other on the bookshelf between a couple of fist addition books from the 17 to 1800s, and some books with the collected works of authors from that same era. In an empty space between books was two skulls with a large leather bound binder underneath them. "Why don't you tell me about the skulls on the bookshelf? The real ones."

He had to make that clarification, because there were a few wax ones as well as a few skulls that could have been found in the Halloween supply store, and a sugar skull or two.

Harley turned to look over her shoulder, and a somber look fell over her face. "Benedetto and Dante. Uncle Bennie and his one love."

Spencer nodded, pushing some things out of the way to make room for Harley to lay down next to him on the floor as she climbed out of her hammock. Uncle Bennie was her great uncle, her grandmother's brother. He was a scholar of 18th to 19th century literature, and the man who introduced Harley to her love of reading. Mostly, he's the cause of her love affair with the writings of Robert Browning and Lord Byron, although to be fair, Harley tended to love works from most authors from the United Kingdom. He'd died when Harley was 15, about a year after Spencer and Harley had sent their first pen pal correspondents to each other. Spencer had almost flown out for his funeral. Almost.

He hadn't realized, though, that Uncle Bennie had been gay. It wasn't one of the things Harley talked about. And she'd never mentioned Dante before, except in reference to someone she'd known as a child who'd lived across the street from her grandparents. That specific Dante though, had been married, to a woman, and Spencer had a felling he was also likely a hit man from the mob from the way Harley talked about him. To be fair, she'd didn't talk about the whole mob involved family thing a lot either. To be really fair, Spencer figured there were a lot of things about her family that she didn't often bring up.

"Dante and Uncle Bennie met in the forties, fighting the war. Dante was from one of the New York crime families and, well, Uncle Bennie had just come over with the rest of the family in the early twenties from Sicily. Uncle Bennie went on to study British Literature and Dante married a woman named Kathrine until they met again in the latter part of the fifties when Uncle Bennie moved to New York to teach at Manhattan College. Kathrine, I guess, knew about the affair considering it went on until Dante got shot in the seventies. He wanted his remains to be cremated, or, more accurately, all except his skull which he wanted given to Uncle Bennie. Katharine got the rest of him. She and Uncle Bennie where good friends until Uncle Bennie died, they even lived together for a time after Kathrine's second husband died. I still talk to her on occasion. She's hilarious. When Uncle Bennie died, he wanted his skull to join Dante's, and gave them both to me in the will. The rest of him was cremated, and his ashes mixed with Dante's and tossed over this cliff in Italy that they went to together.

"Dante's skull was the first skull I ever saw, and it started my fascination with creating faces out of skulls. Kind of pushed me in the direction of anthropology. I mean, it was one of the things that pushed me in that direction, not the only thing, considering I didn't start studying it until I was 19," Harley explained, not taking her eyes off of the skulls. "Of course everyone else in my family would like for me to bury them or something. Kathrine still laughs about it, and jokes that maybe she'd will me hers when she passes. But, listening to Uncle Bennie talk about him and Dante was kind of my favorite story to hear growing up. And Uncle Bennie made sure everyone knew I was his favorite growing up. He'd never call me Harley, though. He'd always call me his cucciola." (puppy/cub)

Spencer looked at the skulls with a new understanding. They weren't just a weird decoration, they were members of her family, and a reminder of childhood. The inspiration for two of the things she loves: reading and anthropology.

"The binder under them holds all of these letters they wrote back and forth to each other, some poems that Dante wrote about them, Uncle Bennie's memoirs, and some stuff like that. I've thought about having them published a couple times, but my nonna would have a stroke if I published it using their actual names. And I just, I don't know what I'd title it, and it's just kind of complicated. And personal. My uncle never told me if he wanted it published or what, so it's kind of just sat there since I moved here. Every once in a while I'll pull it down to read it, but… Most of the time it's just a pretty display stand," Harley explained. "You can read it, you know. I think Uncle Bennie would have gotten a kick out of that, considering the type of things you usually read."

Spencer looked at the leather bound binder for a moment longer. He could read it another time.

Tonight, he had a Disney movie to watch.

Tomorrow, he could read the book. For tonight, he'd made a deal with Harley, and he didn't intend to go back on that deal.

"How about if we watch Toy Story? One of your cousins mentioned it at Christmas, and I still haven't seen it," Spencer told her, bringing the smile back to Harley's face.

"Sounds good, Pen. That sounds really good right now. Maybe another night, I'll introduce you to DC comics, and you can see where I got my name from."

" _...I told him a story of two people. Two people who shouldn't have met, and who didn't like each other much when they did, but who found they were the only two people in the world who could possibly have understood each other."_

― Jojo Moyes, _Me Before You_

 **Author's Note for all of you who didn't read all the way though the one at the top** **: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. And please review. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley. And if you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, I may not use them, but I'd like to hear them, because I'm kind of stuck on trying to figure out how the rest of the team finds out about them. All together or one at a time? I have some ideas floating around, but nothing really concrete, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions you send my way. Message me, or leave your idea in the review section, I'll be looking at both.**

 **I need at least five reviews before I update next. I want to take a moment to thank you for reading! And thank all of you who have and continue to reveiw.**


	10. Chapter 10: October-November 2007

**Authors Note: I just wanted to thank some people before I begin this chapter. Thank you DebbieOz for asking how I'm doing. I got over the flu in about a week, although it circulated members of my household, and my mom just can't seem to shake the damn cough. And thank you to Guest, who I'd love to be able to thank by name, but since I can't, you really helped me figure out how to have Harley meet the team. SO on to that long awaited chapter of how Harley meets Spencer's work family. *Spoiler***

 **Any who, on to the usual disclaimer: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy. And please review at the end. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley. And if you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, I may not use them, but I'd like to hear them, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions you send my way. Message me, or leave your idea in the review section, I'll be looking at both.**

 **P.S.: When I talk about Trenton, New Jersey, my only frame of reference is Janet Evanovich's book series set there. I've never been there. The closest I've been was Newark Airport on the way to NYC. It just happens to be a very Italian filled location in the books, and I loved the way it was set in the books that I had to use it. So if you've lived there, or been there, I'm sorry if anything I write about it offends you. On the other hand, Janet Evanovich's book series which starts with "One for the Money" is a phenomenally hilarious story and I strongly recommend it to anyone looking for a new something to read.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and support, now on with the chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 10: October-November 2007

" _I feel bare. I didn't realize I wore my secrets as armor until they were gone and now everyone sees me as I really am."_

― Veronica Roth, _Insurgent_

David Rossi joined the team a few days before Halloween after ten years in retirement. Tony would latter laugh about it when Spencer told him, finding it hilarious that four months, or ten years, there were just some men who couldn't stay in retirement. This of course would reference the fact the a year before Tony's boss, LJ Gibbs, had retired for a four month sabbatical in Mexico following an explosion that left him with fifteen years' worth of amnesia, before returning to NCIS. David Rossi had spent ten years away, written books, gone on book tours, and amassed fame, but in the end, the two marines had a lot in common when Spencer and Tony talked about it a week later at an… interesting belated Halloween party that Harley and her goth, forensic scientist friend Abby had dragged them to.

His introduction to David Rossi was a little over kill in the geek department, but that's still how it came out. If Spencer had to guess, Harley's new position as a temporary forensic scientist with NCIS was shoving him right back into his shell of awkwardness with the lack of contact the two had had over the last month or so since Tony had been exposed during his undercover assignment, had his car blown up, and broken up with his girlfriend. Which wasn't to say he didn't see her, but at this point he saw more of Tony at the weekend pick-up basketball game than he did of Harley who was trying to dig her way out of a large pile of evidence from multiple teams and a few cold cases she'd been asked to look into with a Forensic Anthropologist view point.

"SSA David Rossi this is SSA Emily Prentis," Hotch introduced.

"Sir," Emily grinned, shaking the man's hand.

"SSA Derek Morgna," Hotch told him, continuing down the line.

"It's an honor, Agent Rossi," Morgan told him before going to shake his hand.

"Please, just Dave," Rossi grinned at the other man.

"And Dr. Spencer Reid," Hotch finished.

"Sir, i—if—if I could talk to you later a—about your work with the Scarsdale Skinner. Psycho-Linguistics is an incredibly dynamic field, and the fact that your profile of his reading habbits ultimately lead to his capture is something I find so incredibly—"

"Reid. Reid. Slow down," Hotch told him. "He'll be here for a while. Catch up with him later."

"Sorry."

"No problem, Doctor," Rossi told him.

"Maybe you can talk on the jet," Hotch suggested. He and Spencer had been spending more time together outside of work because Hayley and Harley had gotten along so well. Harley and Spencer had even gone and babysat baby Jack a few times. And Spencer and Hotch had been conned into a couple of double dates by their significant others, or they had until recently that is. They'd really gotten to know each other better and Hotch had had to admit that Spencer was almost an entirely different person outside of the office. Hotch and Spencer had a much better relationship now than they'd had before the sniper doctor case a few years back, and even before Hankel. Hotch could also really flow with the punches when it came to the difference in him inside and outside of work. But meeting David Rossi… well he hadn't meant to come off as textbook Brainiac as he had. But meeting your idol isn't something that happens every day.

"Ah, yeah, that'd be great."

"The jet?" Rossi asked.

"We have a jet now," Hotch filled him in.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah, comes in pretty handy. Come on, JJ's waiting."

_._._._._

The next day in Carrollton, Texas, he got paired with Agent Rossi to go to sight of the body dump. And he was even more nervous than the day before. He really wanted to prove himself to Agent Rossi, and he was feeling something akin to what Harley must feel when she's on the verge of a panic attack. That bubbling sense of fear and dread and panic that makes your chest tight and make everything you say come out far faster than you intended it to come out. He just—He wanted to impress the other agent the way he'd impressed Gideon. Not to replace his mentor, but to establish himself in Agent Rossi's eyes as a useful member of the team in the field. And he only really managed to screw it up the more time went on in Spencer's mind. And worst of all, if they didn't finish this case soon, he wouldn't get to dress up as the Clyde to Harley's Bonnie and go to the party they'd been looking forward to for the last two weeks.

"We went over this area pretty thoroughly, there's no evidence left," Detective Yarbough told them as they walked to the crime scene.

"I just want to stand where she was," Agent Rossi explained as he walked behind the detective, with Spencer trailing after. "Dr. Reid, do we still keep all the old files in the fourth floor store room?"

"I—I think some of them are up there. You know most of them are on computer now."

"Right."

"Have you had a chance to go through your data since you've been back?" Spencer asked.

"Not yet."

"Ah, you'll be amazed. The original team, well, I mean you, interviewed something like 45 serial killers, right?"

"Something like."

"Today, we've interviewed with a thousand offenders. Serial killers, child abductors, sex offenders. I'll—I'll go through it some time with you if you'd like, answer any questions you might—"

"Sounds good," Rossi told him in that not exactly agreeing way. The way people talk when they just want you to shut up, and Spencer felt like face palming as he realized this.

"Michelle's body was found right here," Detective Yarbough told them as they came to a stop above the stream. "I really thought it was a prank."

"You can't really blame yourself for that," Spencer told him, trying to console the other man.

"She made herself dinner."

"Excuse me?" Spencer asked the detective. Agent Rossi continued to move, looking around at the water.

"She had time to make herself dinner. Means she was home for a while before he… There was time to help her."

"Water," Rossi started a little bit later, almost seeming to be talking to himself. "Obliterates a body. Destroys evidence. But you weren't in the water that long, were you Michelle?"

"She had rocks tied to her, to weigh her down," the Detective told them.

"But she floated to the surface before there was any other damage," Spencer tried to explain.

"Just what was done to her already." It came out bitter and Spencer knew he'd failed in explaining.

"The salient point was that it was the first thing the unsub wasn't good at."

"Clean River dumped most of the bodies in the water," Rossi told them. "But they weren't weighted down."

"Well, yeah. We know now that's because he didn't care if they were found. He had no connection to them." And off goes the light bulb.

_._._._._

"We got anything?" Hotch asked latter when they were back at the precinct.

"Ah, Agent Rossi pointed out that since the victims where weighted down, he didn't want them found," Spencer told Hotch as Hotch looked at Rossi as he wrote in his little note pad. "Which suggests some sort of connection between them"

"Detective, how long was Michelle missing?"

"She was found on the fourth day."

"SO she wasn't in the water long and he held her for three," Hotch surmised as his phone began to ring. He pulled it out and put it on speaker phone. The rest of the group moved in closer, with Rossi moving the least amount. "Garcia."

"I've been running all of Enid White's credit cards," Garcia told them.

"And?" Hotch asked.

"She made a purchase at nine AM this morning at a sporting goods store in Dallas."

"This morning?"

"What did she buy?" Spencer asked, asking the better question.

"A shot gun."

"Thanks," Hotch told her before hanging up as Rossi began writing quickly into his note pad.

"She can buy a gun that easily?" Hotch asked as the news reported in the background. _Well…_

"This is Texas," Detective Yarbough told him, voicing Spencer's opinion.

"There's no license or waiting periods for most rifles or shot guns," Rossi filled in. _Ah, so he's a hunter_ , Spencer surmised, unless Rossi was like him and just happened to know the gun laws for all fifty states. Which he doubted.

"Is there video surveillance for gun sales in sporting goods stores?"

"There's supposed to be."

"JJ call the store. Find out if it was Enid or the unsub using her credit cards," Hotch ordered.

"Right away," JJ told him before moving to leave the room.

"Detective Yarbough," a cop in uniform called out as he walked up to the group, passing JJ on his way. "There's an urgent call from a woman on 1."

The detective moved, turning in his chair to face his phone before pressing the button. "Detective Yarbough."

"My name is Enid White," the woman spoke over the phone.

"Where are you Enid?"

"The news report said that the police didn't believe that other woman when she saw the fliers."

"That was a mistake, Enid."

"I have a gun," she told them. "I don't think I can stay away very much longer."

"Enid, this is Agent Hotchner with the FBI. We believe you, and we can't to help you. Can you tell us where you are?"

"El Royal Motel. In Dallas. It's room 6. I saw the fliers. Hurry, please. He's going to kill me."

"Don't move Enid, we're on our way."

_._._._._

On the plane back to Qunatico, after Rossi antagonized, enraged and then shot their unsub, Spencer sent a text to Harley apologizing for missing the party, or at least the first part of it. Then, back at the office, Spencer watched Rossi follow Hotch up to his office before taking his leave and going to meet Harley and some friends for the last half of night to go clubbing in costume.

Up in Hotch's office, though, Rossi had some questions.

"You said out there that the team shares everything."

"That's right."

"There is no I."

"Uh-huh."

"Seams a… big thing to withhold. Separating from your wife. Your child."

 _Well… Spencer knew_ , so Rossi was only partially wrong about that.

"What are you talking about?"

"You used to call Hayley ten times a day. We've been together 48 hours. Haven't seen you call her once. Haven't mentioned her. And you're not going home now."

"What's your point?"

"I guess… you're just not used to sharing."

"My private life is not the same as a case."

"I'm just saying. Sharing is a learned skill," Rossi told him, looking around the office. "You know, when this all started, there were only a few of us. We'd go out on the road alone. We didn't group think."

"We don't group think," Hotch told him. _Especially since most of us still can't keep up with Reid most of the time._ "We think as individuals and we share the thoughts with the rest of the team, not write them in a little note book and keep them to ourselves. Dave… All this. The people we've helped. The ones we've put away. It's because of you and the guys who started this unit who believed what nobody else did. That there was a way of understanding these crimes and getting ahead of them."

"And?"

"I don't see that you have anything to prove," Hotch told him. "You don't have to come back."

"I know that," Dave responded.

"So why?"

"Maybe I have unfinished business," then thinking for a bit. "You know who does call someone ten times a day? Dr. Reid. Who's he calling? Because the rest of the team doesn't even seem to realize he's doing it."

Rossi left it at that as he walked out of the room, and to his new office. And Hotch smiled, watching him leave. Of course it'd be the person who'd only been with the team for 48 hours that realized Reid had a special someone. Not the ones who blew it off as another eccentricity of Reid's, who'd known him for years, and gotten used to the behavior.

_._._._._

When Rossi spotted Spencer at an old Italian restaurant in DC that he used to go to before he retired, with a group of people and a woman under his arm, he decided to watch the youngest agent rather than go up to him and his group. He figured he'd watch Spencer in a somewhat natural habitat and try and see if there was a difference. There was.

The woman Spencer's arm around had long brown hair, and she had a face that reminded him of his first ex-wife Carolyn. It was soft and warm, and she'd through her head back with laughter every once in a while. She was tucked into Spencer's side, whispering in his ear every once in a while. There was almost no room between the two, and they barely moved away from each other's side, even when reaching to get something from further down the table.

The group he was with was an odd assortment of people: a Goth who seemed more exuberant than any of the tables other occupants; a man who was a couple pounds overweight and reminded him of a mix of Reid and Garcia; a man in a very expensive suit who talked in Italian to the wait staff and movie quotes to the table; a man who he recognized as being a marine; an older gentlemen who wore a bow tie and seemed even older compared to the rest of the group; a thin gangly man who didn't seem to fit in but was welcomed with in the group and didn't seem to care; and a woman who seemed like a fearsome amazon warrior with a Star of David hanging from her neck.

The group of nine seemed comfortable around each other and joked and mocking insults that lacked a certain sting were tossed around the table freely. Spencer still went on a long, rambling tangents, but most of them left the group laughing, and anytime they didn't, the woman under his arm would kiss him hard to make him shut up. Rossi almost wished they could have her at work to shut him down like that every once in awhile.

When the owner came out, a short, slip of a woman by the name of Flora, came out, he thought she was going to head to him. Instead the woman went to Spencer's table, embracing Spencer, the woman under his arm, and the man in the expensive suits. The man gave up his seat so she could sit in it, and instead took the seat the woman who was now sitting on Spencer's lap had vacated. Flora sat with them for the rest of their meal, kissing the three goodbye as they left before walking back Dave's way. Flora had chatted with them, and joined the laughter. She knew them, obviously well, so they were here pretty often.

When she spotted Dave, she moved to sit in the vacant seat across from him, and smiled at him.

"It's been a long time since I've seen your face in these parts," Flora grinned. "Now do you want to tell me why you were staring at Tony's table all night long?"

That was the thing about Flora: the woman had an eagle eye and an aversion to small talk. You couldn't get anything past her, and she wouldn't let you try.

"That was Dr. Spencer Reid. I work with him."

"You know Lorena's girl then," Flora grinned. At Dave's confusion her grin dropped. "You don't know Lorena's girl? I thought the two were inseparable. One never comes without the other."

"Who's Lorena?"

"Lorena is a Jersey girl married to Lucio Benivieni, the head of one of Jersey's crime families. He and his family live in Trenton. The woman sweet Spencer was with is his granddaughter, Dr. Harleen Isley. She used to work at some museum, but now she works with Tonio and his friends at NCIS. A position that sweet girl is over qualified for," Flora shrugged. Flora had grown up in New Jersey herself, so Dave wasn't surprised she knew this, or the Lorena woman she was talking about. But to know that someone else seemed to know more about the young genius than the team he'd just joined was shocking to say the least.

"Who were the people they were with?" Dave asked. Flora rolled her eyes at him, before swatting at his hand.

"You should know better than that David. If you want to know, I suggest you ask the man yourself. He's a very nice gentleman you know. Writes to his mother every day. I wish my sons did that for me every once in a while, but alas, my sons are all a bunch of stronzos." **(Piece of shits. If anyone wants to correct me, or offer a better Italian insult, go right ahead, I welcome it.)** "Spencer's a good boy. He'll answer if you just ask. It seems to me, no one has asked."

With that, Flora walked off to go and yell at some poor bastards in the kitchen, and Dave was left to wonder at the mystery of the team's token genius.

_._._._._

When, after a case involving mass cannibalism that had Spencer contemplating the idea of becoming a vegetarian, and Garcia got shot outside of her apartment, Spencer had never been so happy to see Harley in a hospital before. He hadn't called her, so he didn't know why she was here, but he was happy to see her none the less. Tony and Abby were beside her as she rushed to him, with Tony looking worse for wear and coughing heavily in an unhealthy way.

Harley was dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans with the knees ripped out, a white tank top, an oversized blue flannel and a pair of dark heeled boots. Her hair was loose, trailing behind her as she rushed to him, and her expression worried. She had two necklaces hanging from her neck—no make that three. The St. Christopher's medallion that she wore so often Spencer always forgot was there was tucked down in the bridge of her bra, under her heart, her favorite Italian cameo pendent hung over her heart, and the thin white gold necklace with her birth stone hanging from it that her grandfather had given her at 18 sat close to her neck.

"Pen!" She exclaimed rushing into his arms. He picked her up, turning a little with her in his arms from the impact, and buried his head in her hair as he held her with one arm around her back, and one hand grasping the back of her head. When he set her down, he was immediately hugged by Abby in one of the Goth's ferociously tight hugs with Tony's hand falling on his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" Spencer asked, when Abby let him go, and Harley hugged him around the waist. He held onto her as he looked at the three.

"Checking out AMA," Tony shrugged, before coughing some more.

"The idiot jumped into the Potomac with his plague lungs and his compromised immune system," Harley whispered against his chest. "I had to make him go to the hospital. He's got the flu. He's lucky he doesn't have pneumonia. We were going to take him back to his apartment and have a sleep over or something to make sure he's okay."

"I dove in after Gibbs' car went in and saved him and this twenty one year old friend of Kelly's. They'd be dead right now if I hadn't jumped in with my _plague lungs_ ," Tony explained. "I'm a little more tired and stressed than usual, so excuse me for being immunocompromised. How's your technical analyst? Toby called to tell us, so we came here instead of going home. Luckily we were already at the right hospital."

In the meantime, Harley had pulled out her cell phone and started calling someone. If Spencer had to guess—"Hi, Pastor Dean."

Of course. Pastor Dean is on old friend of her mother's who'd introduced her to Adventism in the wake of her brother Paulo's cancer diagnosis more than thirty five years ago. He's the reason the Isley's are Adventist. The reason Spencer's all but baptized in the church. He listened as Harley explained what was going on before putting the phone on speaker phone so the small group could pray with him. Pastor Dean was the type of man who you could call at any hour and who would still be willing to come should you need him. He was old enough to be his grandfather, but he had one of those personalities that crossed generations and made everyone want to know him better, despite any age difference.

"Guys," Spencer said, turning to Hotch and Rossi, Emily and JJ. Garcia had been in surgery for an hour, and Morgan's phone kept going to voice mail. They were the only five members of team in the waiting room. "This is my… my girl, Harley, and our friend's Special Agent Tony DiNozzo and Abby Sciuto. Harley's got a friend of her family on the phone. Pastor Thomas Dean. He's going to pray with us. Do you guys want to join?"

They nodded, walking closer, with a skeptical look in their eyes.

"Tony, Abby, this is my team. SSA Aaron Hotchner, SSA David Rossi, SSA Emily Prentiss, and Jenifer Jareau, our media liaison," Spencer introduced them.

"It's good to see you again, Aaron. I'm so sorry it's under such terrible circumstances," Harley told him, grabbing his hand. "Now, we all hold hands, that's how you pray."

They looked at her, but soon enough they were all holding hands as Pastor Dean lead them in prayer from California.

When the prayer was over, and Spencer and Harley had talked with Pastor Dean a little more, the group sat down in the chairs in the waiting room.

"So what do the police think happened?" Harley asked.

"Robbery gone wrong," Hotch told them. Harley, Tony, and Abby shared a look.

"And the victim just so happens to be a technical analyst from the FBI?" Tony asked, skeptical. He didn't believe in coincidences, much like the rest of the people he worked with at NCIS, which now includes Harley. No, not coincidences. Bad luck, though, he believed in that. But this didn't seem like bad luck. "I know some guys down at metro. Want me to make some calls? I know some guys who still owe me a favor or two."

Hotch nodded, and Tony walked off down the hall to make the calls with Abby following after him to make sure he didn't try and go home on his own afterwards.

JJ was the first one to ask. "How long have you two been together?"

There wasn't an easy answer for that. They'd been together since they were 18, but they'd only been exclusive since 21, and they'd been corresponding since 14, and that counted on some level, didn't it? Harley spoke up. "8 years. But we've been together exclusively for five."

So maybe it was a simple answer.

"Why didn't any of us know?" Emily asked. "Or, well, every one outside of Hotch it seems."

"Hotch didn't know until last year when Harley and I ran into him and Hayley at a restaurant and ended up in an impromptu double date. And I didn't tell anyone at the beginning because I was 21 when I joined the BAU, and no one took me seriously, let alone if I told them I had a serious girlfriend. And how do you announce it after that? Hey guys, I have a girlfriend. We've been together for years. I'm not the only one hiding a relationship. Ask JJ."

Okay, so he threw JJ under the bus, but he couldn't have been the only one to notice the change in her behavior since the case in New Orleans last year. Right?

They had to have known.

"JJ?" Emily asked, looking at the other agent.

Apparently not.

"Harley, what do you do for a living?" JJ asked, diverting the line of conversation away from herself.

"I'm currently a forensic scientist over at NCIS. At least until a forensic anthropologist position opens up somewhere locally, although Georgetown wants to get me to go over there and teach," Harley shrugged. "Not exactly what I want to be doing, so I'm happy at NCIS in the meantime. I'd rather solve cases than teach them."

"Your pastor, what denomination is he?" Rossi asked.

"Seventh Day Adventist," Harley told him with a grim smile.

"But I noticed you wear a St. Christopher's medallion."

"I do. The rest of my family on either side is catholic so it puts my grandmothers at ease. I was doing a lot of work out of the country or out in the Pacific for a while. And I think Spencer's actually got one stashed in his 'go bag'," Harley explained. She left out the fact that they often traveled to do some pretty insane activities, but that was probably best left for another time. "I was raised on the West Coast, so there was a lot of surfing and outdoors activities, so my Nonna started insisting I wear one when I was around five."

It was also around the time that her adoption was finalized, but that was another thing for another time.

"I called Nonna, and told her what had happened," Harley told Spencer a few moments of silence later. "So by now the whole Berg knows to pray for Miss Garcia."

The Berg was reference to the suburban area of Trenton. Spencer nodded, pulling her closer to him. "Thanks."

Spencer didn't put a lot of faith into religion before meeting Harley, and he hadn't for a while after. No logical person (in Spencer's mind, at least) trusts a book written 3000 years ago in a different language that's been translated many times from many languages as being word for word testament to fact. But… after a while he'd seen and heard enough testimonials about faith that he kind of had to concede that maybe there was something behind it after all. He wasn't fully believing yet, and probably never would be, which was why he still hadn't been baptized. But faith was a strong part of Harley's upbringing, and he wouldn't take that from her.

Besides, praying didn't hurt anyone. Or, well…

That was a tangent for another day.

Harley sat with him through most of Garcia's surgery, though Tony and Abby had already left hours ago, but she got called away by a case that had just opened up over at NCIS only minutes before Morgan arrived saying he'd turned his phone off while he was in church. Spencer and Harley communicated over texts over the next day as Morgan and Garcia found out about their relationship from Emily and JJ who couldn't seem to stop talking about it even as they tried to figure out who shot Penelope Garcia and why.

By the time they found out who Garcia's shooter was and that he was in the BAU, Spencer was on the verge of calling Harley. In the end, it didn't matter. Just as he was about to call Harley, he watched her step out onto the BAU's floor from the elevator with Tony, Gibbs, and Agent Fornell from the Hover building. His breath caught in his throat as Jason Clark Battle realized the people where in the bullpen where onto him, as Harley and the men she was with walked closer to the doors to the BAU. JJ, who they had already called to warn, met up with the group who pulled their guns as she seemed to explain the situation to them.

When Garcia's shooter went down with a bullet to the center of his skull, shot by Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a former marine sniper and current Senior Agent for NCIS's best major crimes response team (MCRT), Spencer let out the breath of air he'd been holding in as he joined Morgan, Prentiss, and Garcia in getting to the BAU from the technical analysis's apartment. He was jittery and nervous the whole ride over, and it wasn't until he walked into the BAU's bullpen and spotted Harley sitting with Agent Adam Fuchs, trying to talk him out of his panic from having a gun pointed to his head. Tony spots Spencer first and intercepts him before Spencer can make his way to Harley.

"She's fine, Doc."

"Why where you here?"

"The case Balboa's team is working on has some times to an old BAU case Harley remembered reading over your shoulder. Fornell was pissed when she called him on it, but agreed to escort us here to pick up the original case file. We were leaving when Harley pressed the button for this floor because she needed something out of your desk," Tony explained putting a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "She was never in any danger. Gibbs wouldn't have allowed that."

Spencer nodded, before brushing Tony off. He walked over to his desk, knowing that in all likelihood, Harley hadn't come close to being near his desk yet. He grabbed the thing he figured she was likely going to come get (a protein bar he had stashed in one of the drawers) and walked over to Harley.

"Here," Spencer told her as he got closer, holding out the protein bar. "When's the last time you ate?"

When Harley cringed, he didn't need to ask further. _It'd been a while_ , was left unsaid.

"Give me thirty minutes, and I'll take you out to diner before dropping you off at the Navy Yard." Spencer didn't offer to take her home, knowing that after a shooting, she could never really sleep and would prefer to work herself into exhaustion. He'd probably grab a few files for himself and work from her office for a while anyway.

"Thanks," Harley told him, offering him a smile before taking a bite of her protein bar, and going back to trying to sooth Agent Fuchs' shakiness.

Spencer walked back over to his team, getting an impressed look from Morgan and a grin from Garcia.

"That's your girlfriend?" Morgan asked.

"She's pretty," Garcia told him.

"She's beautiful," Spencer corrected. He looked over at Gibbs and Fornell who both nodded at him before walking out of the bullpen to either go home or back to their own buildings. He'd bet on the latter. "I'm going to stay for about a half an hour before I take Harley back to the Navy Yard so she can get back to running the forensics on the case she's working."

Hotch nodded. "Harley okay?"

"She doesn't really like being anywhere near a shooting. She worked over at NCIS's forensic lab previously under Director Marrow before she became Dr. Brennan's assistant over at the Jeffersonian. And apparently him and her mom go way back, so they made a bet on wither or not she could pass FLETC without any of the passes and exemptions that I got. And she passed. But Harley didn't and doesn't want to be a field agent, so she isn't. But she could be. She just doesn't want to get shot at any more than she already has been," Spencer told the other agents. "Shootings just remind her of one of the agent's NCIS lost, Kate Todd. She got shot by a sniper who later went on to shoot at a forensic lab Harley was in with Tony and Abby. So she's just a little shy about being in a situation she can actively get shot at. She should be fine, she's just not likely to go to sleep tonight, so I'm going to bring some files over to work on from her office until she's ready to go home."

"Take as many files as you need. Just be sure to return them to work tomorrow," Hotch instructed him, to which Spencer nodded. "Do you know if Tony has a game planned for this weekend?"

"Yeah, his frat brother's do one every weekend," Spencer nodded. "But Tony's sick so I don't think he'll be playing this weekend. Do you want me to ask if you can fill in for him?"

Hotch nodded, before walking away to go deal with Straus, who had just entered the bullpen as they took Deputy Jason Clark Battle's body out on a stretcher.

"What pick-up game is this?" Morgan asked curiously.

"It's just a basketball game," Spencer shrugged. "Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, one of the men that was just here, is from over at NCIS, he used to play D1 basketball over at Ohio State. And he and his frat brothers and some other friends from NCIS and Metro PD play every weekend. I usually ref, although Tony's trying to convince me to assistant coach a team that a couple of the guy sons play for."

He left out that he also could be found playing basketball with them on occasion. But he figured there would have been more questions about it if he had.

"Tony's the guy that was with Harley at the hospital when she came over, right? The one who was sick?" Prentiss asked. Spencer nodded.

"He got pneumonic plague a couple of years ago, so he's supposed to avoid things like jumping into the Potomac to try and rescue two people from a sinking car, but apparently he doesn't," Spencer informed her. Emily and JJ laughed. Morgan grinned, and Garcia looked at him skeptically.

"Pneumonic plague?" she asked as Harley wandered over and slipped under Spencer's arm to wrap her arms around his waist.

"Don't open letters with a SWAK on it. You never know what could be inside," Harley informed her. "I'm Harley by the way. I hope you recover quickly."

"Thank you!" Garcia grinning. "I'm Penelope Garcia."

"Derek Morgan," Morgan told her, introducing himself with a hand shake. Harley smiled meekly at him, before looking up at Spencer.

"Ready to get out of here?"

"Just let me grab some files, and then we can go," Spencer told her, bending his neck down to kiss her forehead. She grinned at him, walking with him, without releasing her hold on him, to go and collect the files before they left.

"Nice to meet you all," Harley tossed over her shoulder at the team, as she and Spencer walked away from the bullpen. "I hope I get to see all of you again soon. Alright, Pen. Let's blow this popsicle stand."

" _We children of schizophrenics are the great secret keepers, the ones who don't want you to think that anything is wrong."_

― Mira Bartok _,_ _The Memory Palace_

* * *

 **Please Review! And for the person who reviewed to my last chapter asking if Harley might get kidnapped because of Spencer's job, I don't think I'd do that, if only because I want to stick to the teams cases from the show, and the only unsub who really targeted their families only ever went after Hotch. But, I could see Harley getting kidnapped due to her own job, which is something I've been tossing around in my head for a bit. I don't know if I'm going to work that into the story, but it's a possible thing. Although I already have something else worked out in my head that goes back to Harley's childhood, before she was adopted by the Isley's.**

 **Thank you all, for the kind words you've already written. Now, please write more!**


	11. Chapter 11: Fall 2007-Spring 2008

**Authors Note: Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed and messaged me.**

 **Any who, on to the usual disclaimer: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy. And please review at the end. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley. And if you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, I may not use them, but I'd like to hear them, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions you send my way. Message me, or leave your idea in the review section, I'll be looking at both.**

 **P.S.: When I talk about Trenton, New Jersey, my only frame of reference is Janet Evanovich's book series set there. I've never been there. The closest I've been was Newark Airport on the way to NYC. It just happens to be a very Italian filled location in the books, and I loved the way it was set in the books that I had to use it. So if you've lived there, or been there, I'm sorry if anything I write about it offends you. On the other hand, Janet Evanovich's book series which starts with "One for the Money" is a phenomenally hilarious story and I strongly recommend it to anyone looking for a new something to read.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and support, now on with the chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 11: Time Lapse

" _Here's to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They're not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can't do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do."_

― Apple Inc.

 **November 2007**

The next time the team saw Harley, was only a few weeks later in LA. She was taking holiday since she worked through thanksgiving so that another tech with children could take the holiday off. It just so happened that her father's birthday was right after Thanksgiving, so she was out in LA to celebrate with him. Her brother, Declan, had even come out from Alaska with his boyfriend, Rowan. He knew that in the meantime, Harley and Declan had an idea they planned to film to give to their father for his birthday. Declan's a photographer and an extreme sport documentary film maker. He like filming five minute short films that exposed people to different extreme activities. Harley's father, Kieran, was a big time movie producer, director, and film maker, so he made a lot of money, and traveled the world a lot. Getting him a present was an extreme sport in and of itself, so Declan and Harley always just made a short film for him. It was by far cheaper than trying to buy him a present, and a hell of a lot more fun.

Harley walked into the station as they worked a case involving an unsub on a psychotic break. She had on a knee length, loose lace dress, a long cardigan, and a pair of fringed ankle boots. Her hair was past her waste in length, with the fringe of her bangs dyed a bright turquois. She had a golden cuff on one wrist that looked like a skeletal hand.

She had with her a couple of large bags of In-N-Out and Declan followed her with several drink carried in his large hands. Declan is by no means a small man, making Harley look even smaller and younger in comparison. Declan has red hair, that's buzzed close to his head, and some scruff on his chin. In Harley's own words, he's built like a brick shithouse that screwed a Doritos chip and Declan is the end result. His torso had that triangular shape to it, but he's so buff and powerful looking, most people perceive him as the most dangerous person in the room. It's part of the reason he lives in Alaska. In Alaska, he seems less intimidating. Declan is an over-sized, overstuffed teddy bear. He's got a heart of gold, and the artistic talent of Michelangelo. He does the art work for the graphic novel versions of Harley's books, and he does massive metal sculptures that sell across the USA. Unlike Harley, who uses another name when she writes books, Declan uses his name, which is how he started getting recognition. People knew who his father was and paid attention.

"Hey, Pen," she greeted him as she walked up and put the bags of food down. "I brought lunch."

"Thanks," Spencer smiled, looking into the bags. He pulled open the bag and looked through it to find his burger, an animal style double double with special sauce, and his well-done French fries.

He watched as Harley produced a large burrito from the single bag from somewhere besides In-N-Out, and hand it back to Declan. She pulled out her own burger from the bag, and sat on the edge of the desk. "Need any help?'

"No," Spencer shook his head. "I think we've got this."

"Good," Declan grinned, still standing. "Nice to know the FBI can handle a case."

Harley grinned, swatting at her brother behind her. "When the case is over, are you going to stay for daddy's birthday party?"

"I don't know. I'll have to ask Hotch. What are you guys filming for his birthday this year?" Spencer asked, seeing as Harley hadn't told him about it. She'd been very tight lipped about what they were planning to film, which is very unusual when it comes to Harley. She's not that tight lipped about anything. Unless it had to do with her families criminal history. And to his knowledge, this didn't.

"Mom and dad celebrated their thirty fifth anniversary this year, so we compiled a video and picture walk down memory lane," Harley smiled. "And Declan and I reshot some pictures of us from when we were younger. Remaking them, you know. And Declan and Rowan are surprising them with the news that the two of them are moving down to Tacoma and adopting a baby. The assholes. Mom's just going to want to know when you and I plan on settling down and starting a family. And I mean settling down as in getting less dangerous jobs, rather than marriage. Unlike Nonna, mama doesn't give a shit about what a piece of paper says."

Spencer laughed. Alma Isley wanted a grandbaby out of both of her children, and she made it a very well-known fact. But then thinking about it, Spencer stopped laughing entirely. Declan and Rowan "settling down and starting a family" would be the catalyst to Alma putting even more pressure on her agenda to have her daughter get pregnant. If she could get away with it, she'd probably have screwed with Harley's birth control by now.

"How's your mom doing?"

Harley's mother had retired this year. "I'm going to kill her. That woman has too much time on her hands. Honestly, she needs a hobby other than trying to convince me to go off birth control. I'd hate to have to tell her that I'd rather just abstain from sex entirely, and that you and I only have sex like once a month."

Declan had put his hands over his ears and started going "nanananana" as Harley spoke.

"Oh, grow up, Declan," Harley hissed. Then turning back to Spencer she kissed him on the lips before hopping off the desk. "We've got to go, but make sure your team grabs a burger or something. Hopefully, I'll see you at the party, if not, I'll see you when you get home."

Harley walked off just as JJ walked up to him. "Where'd the food come from?"

"Harley brought it by."

_._._._._

 **January 2008**

Spencer and Harley had tried to split their time with Hotch and Haley during the couple's separation, but when Haley served Hotch with devoice papers at work, Spencer found himself spending more time with Hotch. He took him to the Sunday pick-up basketball game, and to a fighting gym Tony had introduced Spencer to a year back when he was restarting his life with new sobriety, and he even took him to the shooting range when Harley's cousins came to town and wanted to quote on quote "shoot some shit". He didn't know why that was the thing they wanted to do, seeing as Harley described Trenton as being a city where everyone and their grandmother had a gun, and the only cops who pull people over for carrying concealed are rookie cops looking to make a collar.

But he and Hotch ended up talking a lot more than they had in the past. Spencer was being paired with Rossi a lot, and house hunting with Harley had finally paid off seeing as they'd just put a down payment on a house in Springfield. Declan was working on some metal work for the house, and Antonio was working on renovating the house in his free time, and Spencer and Harley got to do some of the demolition. He was learning new things, while still maintaining some level of privacy away from the team.

He just kind of felt bad that his life was falling into place just as Hotch's seemed to be imploding around him.

_._._._._

 **February 2008**

The case in Chula Vista was the biggest setback in his sobriety. Watching a kid be murdered made him "crave" dilauded in ways he hadn't in a long while. That's when he started looking at NA groups for cops and feds. A friend of Tony's helped him find the one he ultimately ended up going to.

He hadn't even gotten half way through his story by the time he got called away. The Director of the FBI's one year chip felt heavy in his pocket when he joined the team to discuss the case. Harley knew where he'd been but he hadn't bothered to inform the team. They're interrogation on his whereabouts were half assed at best, wanting to know if he'd been with Harley, doing something dirty. Wanting to know what movie he'd been to. Not believing him, but not pressing further.

Owen Savages' case almost sent him over the edge. He empathized so strongly with the kid it was… a difficult case to work for him. Especially in the end. He saw so much of himself in Owen. Even some of Harley. It was because of Harley that he knew so much about how Owen must have felt with a learning disability. Harley had been lucky enough to have parents that recognized the signs of a learning disability and pulled her from a crappy system that doesn't help learning disabled students, and home schooled her instead. The Isley's were incredible parents, with lots of compassion and understanding for their children.

He had no compassion for parents like Mr. Savage or the adults he had to work with and talk to during the case and Hotch got tired of it quickly. This case was entirely preventable in Spencer's mind. And at the same time, it could have been him. Or Harley. Or Zack Addy. Or Dr. Brennan. He'd had Danny McCoy, Marry Connelly, and Danny's father looking out for him in high school. Harley had the largest, most loving family he'd ever meet and the gymnasts she'd had socialized with (she'd been a world class gymnast) had other things to do than bully the girl who spent more time learning the illegal moves that the ones she could use in a competition. Zack had another enormous family that watched out for him. And Dr. Brennan had had her brother Russ. Which didn't mean they hadn't thought about going and shooting up their schools at one point. Because he'd bet that they all had. Just that they hadn't.

He really hated adults, though. And he kind of wanted to shoot some of those officers in the face.

He ended up going back to the meeting, and actually getting to attend the entire meeting. And then he went to the house that would go on to become his and Harley's home, and he took a sledge hammer to one of the walls they'd been talking about tearing down. And then Harley came and took him to Gibbs' house in Alexandria to have some bourbon and cowboy steaks with Harley, Gibbs, and Tony. And he ended up falling asleep to watching Gibbs build a boat in his basement.

He'd send a letter to his mother the next day, leaving out his feelings on the Savage case. And he spent the next week sleeping at Harley's appartment. He had two months to get his own one year chip.

Just two more months.

He could make.

Harley would help with that.

He only had two more months.

He just had to get though those months.

Then…

One full year of sobriety.

_._._._._

 **March 2008**

Harley and Spencer celebrated Spencer's one year mark by going to Point Pleasant Beach in New Jersey and just relaxing in the sand. It was a weekend trip. Nothing special. Still cold. But Harley and Spencer enjoyed themselves, walking along the beach, and touring the shops. It really wasn't anything spectacular, or well thought out, or full of grand romantic gestures. It was just the two of them away from the woes of the world, enjoying themselves in each other's company.

At night, they laid together in the queen sized bed in their motel room, snuggled in each other's embrace, and talked. Their house was coming along great, their relationship was stable, and they were happy.

Two months later, Spencer would wish he could go back to that weekend and just stop time.

Two months later, as Harley's world imploded around her, Spencer would wish he could just pick her up and carry her back to Point Pleasant, and forget the world around them existed.

If only that was possible.

He really wished that was possible.

Hell, Harley wished that was possible.

If only…

" _Achieving true sobriety goes beyond abstinence. It's also about healing your soul, apologizing for damage you did to other, and seeking forgiveness."_

― Lou Gramm, _Juke Box Hero:_ _My Five Decades in Rock 'n' Roll_

* * *

 **Author's Note: I don't know when I'll find time to update next. Hopefully I'll have another update up by next weekend. Maybe sooner. Classes start on Monday, so I just don't know when I'll be posting another chapter. I'm sorry in advance if it takes me longer than next weekend to post, but the chapter I'm working on next is going to blow your minds, and I just want to make sure it's fantastic.**

 **Please review. More reviews=better incentive to update faster.**


	12. Chapter 12: May 2008

**Authors Note: Okay, so this used to be four separate chapters but I really wasn't happy with the length of a couple of them so I combined all four into this one chapter that encompasses all of the events of May. For those of you who have read this (or the previously four) chapters before, I have changed certain things, expecially after re-watching the episode, and expecially after rereading the story. Nothing I change will be to story altering, so if you've already read this, but don't want to, go ahead. And if you've read this before and are still going to read this again, feel free, and thank you.**

 **Thank you to all of you who actually read through all of that. I just needed to get that out there, so thank you for listening so I'm not just shouting words into the infinite void called the internet.**

 **Any who, on to the usual disclaimer: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy. And please review at the end. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley. And if you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, I may not use them, but I'd like to hear them, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions you send my way. Message me, or leave your idea in the review section, I'll be looking at both.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and support, and all your kind words of encouragement, weather you use your account to post the review or do it anonymously! Now on with the chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 12: May 2008

 **Part 1**

" _The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple."_

-Oscar Wilde

At the beginning of May, Harley received a little black journal, and after that, Spencer saw and spoke to Harley less than he ever had before. When he stopped by her apartment, it was almost always empty, and even her beloved dogs where gone, sent to live with Gio while Harley buried herself in research, writing and work. Her time with NCIS looked to be coming to an end, with another forensic scientist already lined up to take her place by the end of the month. When Spencer talked to Tony, Tony told him that Harley was acting like a dog with an old bone with a cold case she'd dug up, and writing like she was trying to exercise some demon though her pen (although technically it's more like her keyboard). No one he talked to seemed to know what was going on with her, and that worried Spencer more than anything.

When Spencer did see Harley, she was almost always asleep, looking like she hadn't slept in days, and looking a little gaunter in the face each time he saw her. He was worried about. Really, truly worried.

It all come to head when an explosion at the Jeffersonian landed Zack Addy in the hospital with third degree burns to his hands, the explosion having burned through his gloves. Harley dropped everything to go over and lend a hand to help the Jeffersonian's Medical-Legal lab find out what happened and help find the serial killer named Gormogon, a ritualistic cannibal who used bones from his victims to form a human skeleton with one part equaling a new victim. One finger from one, a femur from another, and so on and so forth.

And then Tobias Fornell showed up in their bullpen with the journal Harley had received at the beginning of the month in hand. The team was at the round table discussing a case when he came in without his team, and looking more somber than Spencer had ever seen the man. He hadn't looked nearly as somber when his ex-wife, Diane (who also happens to be Gibbs first of three redheaded ex-wives), had devoiced him and taken his money in 2005. And he had questions for Rossi.

"You had two children, correct? A son who died not long after he was born, and a daughter?"

Rossi looked at him shock as the team looked at Rossi in shock. Not even Hotch had known this. "How do you know this?"

Fornell held up the journal. "Your daughter was kidnapped from a park in Alexandria, correct? Armory Tot Park? She was two?"

"Yes, now how do you know this?"

"This journal talks about the kidnapping," Fornell answered. "It came to light at the beginning of the month when an agent passed it on to the woman she thought was the child of the woman this journal belonged to. I'd like to collect a DNA sample for comparison."

"What agency?"

"At the time that the journal came into the agent's position, the agent was with the CIA. The woman this journal belongs to was another CIA agent that disappeared for three years after getting pregnant and leaving the agency. When they found her, she'd suffered a psychotic break, and had a little girl in her care. Since she'd been pregnant when she left and they had a birth certificate for a daughter around the same age as the girl, no one suspected the child was anything other than the woman's daughter. Last week, with the help of clues from the journal, we found the remains of a twenty month old little girl buried outside the woman's childhood home," Fornell informed him. He looked sad, but he carried on giving the information he hadn't really been asked to give. "The agent who's possession this journal was in for the past 23 years never looked into it. They had been the woman's handler at the time of her departure from the CIA. When the woman died in the hospital she's been in for the last 23 years last month, the agent sent the journal to the woman she believed had been the woman's daughter.

"Who was she?"

"I'm not at liberty to disclose the woman's name or her handler's name until we do a DNA test," Fornell told him. "But, Spencer, you might want to go check on your girlfriend. It's been a hard enough month for her already, and they recently discovered that Zack Addy was their serial killers new apprentice. It looks like the kid is going to be charged with murder. Or so the rumors over at the Hoover building say."

Spencer could tell he was leaving out other things that might be troubling Harley, but instead chose to ignore that feeling. So instead he just nodded at Fornell who went on to collect a cheek sample from Rossi before leaving.

"You had a daughter?" Hotch asked finally.

"Carolyn and I had a son in 1979 and a daughter in 1981. Our son died the day he was born, and our daughter was kidnapped from a park Carolyn took her to at the age of two. Their names were James David and Juliet Rose. It was after that that Carolyn and I divorced," Rossi told the team.

"What happened with your daughter's case?" Morgan asked.

"There wasn't any evidence or leads or even witnesses who remembered anything, and a serial killer was active in around the same area at around the same time who had a preference for little girls. No body was ever found, but the police suspected the serial killer might have also taken Juliet. Her case was cold from the start," Rossi explained. "She's the reason I helped start the BSU."

Spencer thought about it. Harley had received that journal, which was the start of her isolation out the rest of the world and the beginning of her worrisome behavior. She was born in 1981, was removed from her mother's care at some point and spent time in foster care before being fostered and later adopted by the Isley's. Harley wasn't her birth name, just the one that Declan had started calling her because the name she'd had was "too plain" for such a rambunctious girl in the then 15 year olds mind. Her name had been legally changed to Harleen Selina Isley after she was adopted. It was all just a name Declan made up. And (possibly not so) coincidently, it just happened to include the names of DC's Queens of Crime. Harleen Quinzell, Selina Kyle, and Pamela Isley. That name was what drew her to the idea of getting a PhD when she had no idea what she wanted to do. She'd started college at 13, and she had no idea what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. She'd been a gymnast growing up and still was at 13, but she was practical enough to realize gymnastics was a short lived pursuit. She could have done anything. But she was a fan of Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, and she recognized that both villains had a PhD, so she decided to get two. And then two became four after she decided she wanted to be an anthropologist at 17.

Her mom was most likely CIA. And that didn't seem coincidental to Spencer right now. The agent who'd had the journal was the CIA handler of the kidnapper of Rossi's daughter.

None of it seemed like a coincidence. Except for the part were all of this happened around the same time that their friend Zack could be sent away for murder. That part was just shitty luck.

As the team was abuzz with the news that they didn't actually know all that much about Rossi, Spencer snuck away from the round table, intent of finding Harley and confronting her. Harley wasn't good with unexpected change. She just didn't deal with it well. She'd almost dropped out of college when her uncle Bennie died, and she'd run away to Guatemala with Dr. Brennen for three months when Kaitlyn Todd had been killed. Expected change was something she could deal with, like the back problem that killed her gymnastics career, or leaving the Jeffersonian. Those where expected, and she'd learned to deal with them. But Harley tended to get wild, ill-thought-out ideas when unexpected changes came her way. And Spencer needed to be there to try and anchor her before she did something she couldn't come back from.

And he probably needed to call her father and warn him. Kieran Isley, that is.

The only problem with that last part is that Alma Isley scares him more than any of the unsubs the team has ever faced. And she's only 4'11".

_._._._._

Spencer didn't go to the Navy Yard, or the Jeffersonian, or even Harley's apartment. Instead he went to the house they'd bought in Springfield, and parked next to Harley's car.

They hadn't told anyone outside of their pparents about this place, so Spencer knew she'd go here, because next to no one would know to look for her here. Tony might have, because Harley saw him as her "brother in DC", but Tony was currently away on a protection detail for his director in LA. Spencer couldn't tell if that was good thing or not at the moment.

He found Harley laying in the cloth hammock strung up between two beams in the pergola in their back yard. They had a lot of back yard space with an attached ramada and a pergola, and an outdoors fire pit. They both kind of missed the south west where back yards could be used year round, and pools saw use all year, but Antonio was working on making sure that the backyard could be used all year, and he was even talking about maybe making a small green house in the back corner of the yard for "plants and whatnot". Where the hammock was hanging right now was where a swing was going to be put in latter. And, well, Harley loved sitting in hammocks.

She wasn't doing anything, just lying in the hammock, and staring out at the yard. She looked worn out and tired, and there was this confusion in her eyes that Spencer knew wasn't a good thing. Harley was never not sure. It was just a fact with her. She either knew something, or she's make you believe she knew something. She could even convince you she was right when you knew she was wrong. She just wasn't one of those people who ever seemed to question how the world works. But Spencer could tell that right now, she was questioning it.

And Spencer knew that couldn't be a good thing.

He pulled up a chair next to her, rather than climb in with her. Sitting in a hammock isn't one of the things Spencer likes to do, and in fact he avoids it. But he still reached a hand in to fish out one of hers and hold onto her. Or at least the tiny part of her that is her hand. "What's going on?"

"I might have been kidnapped," Harley whispered, not daring to look at him. Because if she looked at him right now, just like if she had talked to him about it sooner, it'd all be real. And it just couldn't be real. "It's just. I was adopted. That was my reality. I spent a year in foster care, and that sucked, and that was before I even really remembered much. I only remember one thing from foster care and that's one of my foster brother's who's kind of looked after me ever since. But the Isley's adopted me, and they're the only family I've ever known. And every once in a while I can forget that I'm not theirs by blood. I never questioned what my life would have turned out like if they hadn't adopted me. I never had to. But if I was kidnapped, then there's an entire other family out there that I belong to. Another life of what ifs. Another reality. And I just… I want to go back to a month ago and regain that ignorance."

Spencer sat there silently with Harley's hand clasped in his own. He didn't say anything yet. Harley still had more she needed to say. He could tell.

"I asked Fornell to look into it for me. He found a case file of a missing girl that could be me. I had him copy it and black out the names. I just… I don't know if I want to know who they are yet. My parents. My real name. I just… I want to know, but then again I don't," Harley explained, finally turning to look at him. "Does it make me a bad person that I have the ability to return a child to their parents and I'm not sure I want to?"

Spencer didn't respond. So she didn't know that Fornell was having Rossi's DNA tested against hers.

"I went into Anthropology because—because I wanted to help return children and siblings and parents to their family, you know, and I'm not even sure I want to do that right now," Harley confided in him. "When I was 17, my cousin's body was returned to my great aunt. He'd been MIA in Vietnam for years until forensic anthropologists and archeologists found and identified his remains, and I found a calling because of that. Looking at my aunt's face and seeing how grateful she was to finally have a body to burry, I wanted to help others have a body to get closure with. And for the first time, I have the chance to return someone's child alive, and I just don't know if I can do it."

Spencer didn't know what to say to that. How to respond. There just didn't seem to be words to say to make it okay. Because nothing in this entire situation was okay. Rossi had had a child stolen from him, and Harley had had a possible life stolen from her. And now both of them had had the floor ripped out from under them. What can you say to that?

"Who gave you the journal?"

"Hetty Lange," Harley shrugged. "I've known her forever. Or not, I guess. She worked with my mom. So my mom also knows my kidnapper. Hetty's the one who got me placed with the Isley's, you know? Mom had some complications having Declan and couldn't have any more kids, and Hetty basically gave me to them. Apparently I just wasn't fit to be one of her little toy soldiers."

"What?"

"Hetty watched over a couple of kids in foster care. Or maybe not a couple, I don't know. It could have been more. Orphans, some of whom where the kids of CIA assets or agents and the like. She moved them around, found them new homes each time they ran away, even raised a couple herself. They all went on to be agents for the CIA or something. She could have done the same with me, and I don't know why she didn't. And, right now, I don't feel like talking to her, let alone going up to her and asking," Harley sighed. They lapsed into silence once more until Harley spoke again. "My mom probably know, but I don't know if I want to ask her either."

For the next hour, Harley and Spencer just sat like that until Harley's stomach complained that it was hungry. They were in Toki Underground getting Taiwanese ramen by the time either talked again.

"I wrote a book aobut it," Harley told him. "My kidnapping. From the cops prospective. Fornell got their case notes from me, and I interviewed them saying I was working with some newspaper on a sort of 'remember the missing children' article. I don't know what I'm going to call it, but I just needed to put it to paper. Exercise my demons. It fits with the other books I've written. Probably a good thing I write horror and not romance."

"It's a horror novel?" Spencer asked, confused. He had though that it would be like a psychological thriller or a detective novel. But a horror novel?

"It's horrible. The child never gets returned, the case goes cold, and a body is never found. There's no resolution at the end, or any closure to the parents. They get to believe that it's possible their child was just another victim of a man who raped and murdered babies. You can't tell me that's anything other than horror," Harley shrugged, seeming almost indifferent to it now. Spencer didn't now wither it was bad or worse. But he knew he needed to call Harley's dad and see what she thought. Despite his wives desperate need to see her daughter pregnant, Kieran knew his daughter better than anyone else. Even Spencer, sometimes. She was his little girl, blood be damned.

"I thought you were working on a different book," was the only response Spencer could muster.

"I was. And then that damned journal landed on my doorstep," Harley flinched. "My publisher says she understands. She still wants to have me do a book tour or something, but I just remind her that they mystery of my identity is part of the appeal."

Harley only talks to her publisher though a third party: her type A personality cousin, Murphy Anne Shane. As Harley puts it, she basically just writes the books and then washes her hands of them until the royalties come in. Murphy deals with the publisher and everyone else. Harley just has to deal with Murphy, who's like a pit bull with a bone. She doesn't just "drop it", instead shaking vigorously until she gets the end result she wants, which is usually five more chapters out of Harley, or a larger percentage of the books profits for Harley and her to split. And it does get split. About 60-40 with Harley getting the larger portion. Harley claims Murphy deserves it, seeing as she has to deal with all the people involved, and Spencer can't fault her logic there. Plus, he's not sure Murphy would take any less. And she's the second person down, on the list of people he fears.

"Not that Murphy's going to give up on having me finish the other story by Christmas," Harley added. "I just… I'm not in the write mindset to try and continue writing that, or it'll come out even more twisted than it was already looking like it was going to be."

The book she'd previously been working on was a monster story, using monsters that had haunted her as a child. These monsters hunted adult mostly, because only children and some teens could see the monsters as they hid in the dark. And monsters where afraid of those who could see them. Because children remembered the rules. The monsters where the reason that teens still feared the dark, because they remembered that they weren't safe in the dark, but they'd forgotten the rules and could thus, no longer see the monsters. And adults, while they fell victims to the monster, could never see the monsters and had long ago forgotten to fear what hides in the dark of their bedroom. The few chapters that Harley had written and Spencer had read where absolutely chilling, and the most terrifying few chapters that Harley had ever written. Which is probably why Murphy, who's a horror fanatic who'd always have Harley create monsters for her when they were still kids before they could watch the R rater horror films, wouldn't let Harley stop writing the story.

"Do you want to talk about the journal?" Spencer asked.

"Not really. No," Harley told him. She had this sad look in her face. "Zack's most likely going to end up in the looney bin. And I don't think he even committed the murder."

"Then why would he take the fall for it?" Spencer asked, confused.

"If he doesn't go to the looney bin for murder, he'll go to prison as an accomplice, and Zack's smart enough to know he won't survive in prison," Harley shrugged, looking sadder, if that was even possible at this point. "And I don't think anyone sees that he doesn't feel remorse, not because it's not logical, but because he didn't do it."

Spencer nodded, kind of understanding her point.

"Just… can we not talk about the journal, or Zack, or the Director of NCIS for tonight?" Harley asked him, sounding absolutely exhausted. "I just… I don't want to think about any of that right now. I just… can we talk about something that is far less depressing?"

Spencer thought about it. He could do that for her. For one night, at least. "So have Declan and Rowan adopted a baby yet?"

He already knew the answer because Declan had called to tell him, but he knew this would cheer Harley up.

And it did. She grinned at him. "Yeah. A little baby girl from South America. They're naming her Sophia. She's entirely too adorable."

"I didn't know babies could be entirely too adorable," Spencer laughed.

"Yeah, they can be. And they can also be butt ugly. But no one who's ever adopted a child has ever complained either way," Harley laughed. The sadness was almost seeping out of her, and Spencer loved that. "I had the most unruly hair, and mama never complained a bit. She just shoved me into some of the ugliest dresses, I swear."

"Have you ever thought about adopting?"

Harley thought for a minute. "I thought about it, sure. But now… I don't know."

Spencer nodded. _So there was another topic to avoid._

"What about another dog, when we move into the house?"

Harley grinned at him, her eyes still conveying sadness, but he could tell she was at least slightly happier. "That sounds good. And you can come with me and pick it out this time."

Spencer groaned. He hated going to the pound with Harley. She'd go in for one and want to come out with all of them. And then she'd cry when she couldn't. She wasn't that way about people, or even babies, but when it comes to homeless dogs, Harley's got a bleeding heart that should killer from exsanguination.

_._._._._

Spencer ended up calling in sick to work the next day and accompanied Harley up to Trenton. She wanted to talk to her grandparents and get their opinion on what was going on, and her cousin Luca, a police officer with Trenton PD, had mentioned a couple weeks ago that he'd like Spencer's opinion on some of the cases he and his department were working. So Spencer would be in the Trenton police department while Harley was with her Nonno and her Nonna. At around four-o-clock, Harley stopped by the police department in a pair of black cargo pants and a grey Henley she hadn't had on this morning when they drove up.

Some people would consider it a long drive, but Spencer and Harley had spent their first few years as drivers in southern California, and in LA traffic, going shopping could take up to two hours if you got onto the freeway. Plus, Harley had grown up regularly driving from San Diego to Disneyland, a two hour drive in its self on a good day. Three hours driving in a car was nothing compared to the four hour drive through the desert to get home from Caltech and check on his mom. He'd driven that trip often, and even without air-conditioning on occasion. And it was even less in comparison to the seven hours they drove from Harley's parents' house in San Diego to a weeklong camp meeting in Santa Cruz for a few summers between becoming adults and moving out to DC. They'd likely end up going to camp meeting again this summer if Spencer could finagle the time off from Hotch. It was a Seventh Day Adventist camp, and Spencer knew that Harley could likely use some time to reaffirm her faith by the end of all of this shit she was dealing with. And it couldn't hurt for him to go along, too. Maybe he'd even get baptized sometime this year.

Harley grinned as she walked up to him. "The boys and I are going to go paintballing. I wanted to stop by and ask if you'd join us. So?"

Spencer grinned. There was no way in hell he was playing paintball with Harley and her cousins. He'd made that mistake once, and vowed to never do it again. They tended to get too into the game, and you end up coming out with more than a few welts in more than a few uncomfortable locations, and they'd tease you about being a wimp if you complained. It was bad enough he couldn't escape the bee-bee gun wars they started inside each other's houses, but he wasn't intentionally walking into another paint ball massacre again. He'd seen them take you a team of trained marines, and he'd hate to be on the other team again.

"No thank you," Spencer told her, making her grin widen. "Have you come to a decision about…?"

Her grin dropped. "No. Fornell called to tell me the results of the DNA test came in, but I told him I don't want to know yet. I'm going to take a week to think it over, and probably visit my parents and see what they thing. Nonno says he supports me either way, and Nonna just kept reminding me that they'll still be my family no matter what. She even started with the whole, 'you're not a single tree alone in the world, you've got an entire forest you belong to' thing she likes to instill in us. And then she wanted to know if you were ever going to ask me to marry you. Gio walked in right after that, and pulled me away, thank God," Harley explained. "We're having dinner with them before we go back, so prepare to be interrogated."

Spencer groaned. Everyone wanted to know when they'd get married and start a family. And most of them didn't understand, or even try to understand, why the young couple didn't want to get married right now. It wasn't that they didn't want to get married, they'd just agreed they'd rather do it at 27 or 28. It wasn't that far of in reality. They'd be turning 27 at the end of this year, in fact. But they both were really tired of trying to explain that.

And children were even further off the horizon. Spencer traveled a lot for work, and Harley got opportunities outside of the country all of the time to work on digs and excavations that would further her career, and having kids would prevent her from taking a lot of those opportunities, not only because of Spencer's own traveling, but because if she went, one of them wouldn't be seeing their child for a few months. And in all likely hood, that person would end up being Spencer.

"Thanks for the warning. Have fun shooting your cousins," Spencer smirked. "Make sure to hit Cruz for me."

That brought the smile right back to her face as she leaned down to kiss him goodbye. "I will."

They kissed for a full minute, longer than was usual, until Luca walked up.

"Hey! Off my cousin! I don't want to see any of that shit here!" Luca complained as he walked up to the couple with a few more files for Spencer to look over in his hands. "God! The hell is wrong with you two? You're not supposed to do shit like that!"

Harley grinned, almost resembling a shark. "Do what Luca? What did I do?"

Luca glared back at her, but didn't open his mouth to speak.

Harley laughed. "Alright. I'll see you both at dinner. Enjoy your files while I kick the boys' asses at paintball."

As Harley walked away, Luca's glare leveled on Spencer. "That is my baby cousin, and I don't want to be seeing any more of that shit. Capisce?"

Spencer didn't bother answering him, just turning back around to read over the rest of the files as he smirked. Luca, in turn, just huffed, dropping down the added files, and walked away.

All in all, the trip to Trenton ended up being both refreshing and entertaining.

_._._._._

The next day, after Spencer dropped Harley off at Dules (so she could go visit her parents for the next week) before work, he called Fornell as he drove to work in Harley's Ford Mustang.

"Did you tell Rossi?"

"Yes, I did," Fornell informed him. "I'm sorry kid, but I have a daughter of my own, and I can't imagine going through what he's been through. Besides, I figured if I didn't, your analyst would just hack her way in and find out the results anyway."

"What did the results say?" Spencer asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea.

"Harley Isley is Juliet Rossi," Fornell told him. "Like I said, I'm sorry kid. You're going to have a pretty hectic day at work if Rossi does what I think he'll do. Especially when he finds out that Ms. Garcia can't hack her way into Harley's records."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Hetty Lange likes keeping her secrets close to the belt, and she likes protecting the secrets of those around her. She's got some of the best protecting those secrets and the security of her people. And Harley is very much one of her people. There's no getting past the security around Harley's electronic files and information, much less her mother's. Far better than Ms. Garcia have tried and failed," Fornell informed him, as if talking from personal experiance. "Have fun being interrogated by the profiler who wrote the book on interrogating suspects. Now I've got to go stop Gibbs before he kills one of my agents."

And then Spencer could hear the dial tone in his ear, informing him that he'd just been hung up on.

" _When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change; at such a moment, there is no point in pretending that nothing has happened or in saying that we are not yet ready. The challenge will not wait. Life does not look back. A week is more than enough time for us to decide whether or not to accept our destiny."_

― Paulo Coelho, _The Devil and Miss Prym_

* * *

 **Part 2**

" _I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next._

 _Delicious Ambiguity."_

― Gilda Radner

Nearly three thousand miles away from her, Spencer has been saved from his impending interrogation by Rossi by a case that popped up in New York City involving five seemingly random and extremely public shootings. He breathed a sigh of relief when Hotch called the team to the table and a weight even seemed to lift off of his shoulders when Hotch orders Rossi to focus on the case, having been informed by Tobias Fornell earlier that day about what was happening. Spencer was happy. He had no idea what was going to happen. If he did, he would have taken that interrogation from Rossi in a heartbeat.

On the other side of the country, Harley had stepped off of her plane in Lindbergh Field International Airport, walked to baggage claim and rushed into the waiting arms of the couple who raised her. So many thoughts clouded her head. Did she still call them her mom and dad? Were they still her family? Was this still her home?

Harley actually started to cry as her father wrapped him in his strong arms and held her tightly. Kieran Isley was of a similar build to her brother's: he was tall and built, and physically intimidating, even as he aged. In his sixties now, his biceps where still the size of a melon, and his chest was still as hard as a rock. He gave the best hugs though. The warmest. The type that, once you were wrapped in his arms, you instantly knew you were loved. He didn't hug many people, didn't hold many people, but Harley had spent much of her childhood with in the warm embrace of his arms, or on his back or on his shoulders, or hanging from his large hands.

She loved his hugs. But now a part of her wondered if he was still her father, and the tears started falling instantly.

"Shhh," he whispered in her ear, in his deep, hits you right in the core, voice. Harley loved his voice. She wasn't a girl who'd wanted a guy like her daddy, if the fact she was with Spencer was anything to go by, but she'd always loved the way that her daddy and Declan had resembled so much of each other. Both had red hair, although her fathers had become more sandy blond over the years, both where basically oversized, over stuffed teddy bears until you made the mistake of pissing them off, and both gave some of the best hugs that Harley had ever experienced. Even now, being wrapped in either of their arms made her feel safe from the world, and powerful enough to face whatever came at her. She just needed a lot more time wrapped in this hug to get to that last one right now. "It's all going to be alright, kitten. I promise. You're always going to be my baby girl. DNA has never and will never take that away, I swear."

That was just what Harley needed to hear. She nodded in response, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes, and trying to shove it all back in. "Thank you, daddy. I really needed to hear that."

"Of course, kitten," he told her, pulling back to look at her face. "Oh, don't you look just beautiful. Everything with Spencer going okay?"

"Yeah," Harley nodded with a small smile. He'd really been pressing the subject of whether or not she planned to find out about how the DNA test came back, but he's always stop if she asked him too, and he'd been really supportive through this entire thing. "He's in New York right now with his team. He left me a message while I was on the plane. I'll call him tonight to see how the case is going. He's been really supportive."

"I'm sure he has," her daddy laughed. "Got enough men in this family he has to worry about having come after him if he doesn't."

Harley laughed at the truth in what her father was saying. "Daddy!"

"You can't say I'm wrong, kitten. You know I'm right," her dad continued to laugh as Harley shock her head at him.

Her father released her from his embrace and passed her on to her mom.

Alma Isley wasn't as tall or imposing as her husband. She was short in fact, only 4 foot 11 inches tall but she was also curvy and warm, with compassionate brown eyes, and skin that was soft to the touch. She always dressed in very feminine outfits, and a closet full of dressed that Harley had loved to try on as a child. Her hair was a golden brown with the greys left un-dyed for all to view, and pulled up into an intricate updo that Harley had loved having her mother replicate in her own hair for a god part of her teen years. Her features where soft and wrinkled with age, her hugs where tight but calming, and she had a way of making people feel at home in her presents. To Harley's recollection, she was also the first adult that Harley had really felt comfortable with.

It all seemed different now, though. Harley had always known that you couldn't make a person your home, but Harley had always felt most at home with family. San Diego and Trenton would always be the places she called home because of this, but in some part of her mind, she wondered if that was even true anymore. DC wasn't home, it never had been. She'd live in the same apartment for years, and Spencer and her only live so many miles apart, but DC had never felt like home in the same way that San Diego and Trenton had. She wondered if there was somewhere else out there that she'd be calling home right now had… had it never happened. And another part wondered if DC would become home now that Spencer and Harley owned a house there.

"I'm so sorry you had to find out this way, dolce," her mother sighed, pulling Harley into her arms. "I swear, I didn't know. I didn't even know about there being a journal, or I would have insisted on reading it long ago. You have to know that I never knew. That I wouldn't have kept this from you."

Harley nodded as she rested her head on her mother's shoulder. Alma Isley may have been a spy, and a very good one at that from the reputation she had compiled over the years, but Harley had never known her to be anything but warm, open, and honest. This was still the same woman who told her that the little girls who picked on her in the ballet classes Harley had been forced into taking where going to grow up to be "bitches and whores", which hadn't, in fact, been that far off of the mark all these years later. This was the same woman who sat her down and explained where babies came from and the "wonders" of womanhood without dumbing it down, or fabricating stories because "it'd do her no good to grow up with that sort of ignorance" even if she had only been seven at the time. This was the same woman who used to bop her on the nose with a grin to get her attention when she'd taken a stroll into La La Land and given her a gentle thump on the back of the head when she knew Harley was smarter than she was being or acting at the moment. This was the woman she'd always referred to as her mother and who'd been honest to a fault all of Harley's life. This was the woman who had gotten her her first pair of heels, and taught her to walk in them. So if she said she didn't know, then Harley really just wanted to believe her at the moment. There were a million and one other thoughts running around freely in her head at the moment that required a heck of a lot more thought than if her mother was finally lying to her.

"Come on then," her father told the pair with a smile. "Let's go get her bags and them head on home."

"Can we stop for dinner first?" Harley asked, thinking of several places she missed while living in DC. This elicited a full bellied laugh from her father, and a small chuckle from her mother. Her father placed one of his large hands on her shoulder, as she mother wrapped her arms around her from the side, and the three walked closed to the thinned out crowd around the baggage carousel.

"Whatever you want, kitten," her father told her. "But I swear, if the check goes over a hundred dollars, I'm sending it to Spencer and having him pay."

Harley laughed at his very lame joke. If the check got too high, it was almost always because he ate like it was the first meal he'd had all day. He was just trying to be funny with his dad humor that hadn't worked when she was young, and worked even less now that she was older.

"Sure dad," Harley grinned. "So how's that beer belly you're working on working out for you?"

Harley's mother laughed outright as her dad mock glared at her. "I'll have you know I can still out lift your brother in the weight room young lady. Want to see how well you can do?"

"You're on," Harley smiled up at him, accepting the challenge. She'd lose, by epic proportions. But it'd be a fun thing to do with her dad, before they went deep sea squid fishing the next night.

Harley could already tell that this was just what she had needed.

_._._._._

As the team wrap up the case in New York, with the death of Agent Kate Joyner and the end of the reign of terror that the city had been under, Spencer tries his best to avoid Rossi's inquisitive looks. He knows that the older agent is waiting like a cat following a mouse to pounce and interrogate Spencer all about Harley. And Spencer knows that Hotch's gag order isn't going to last much longer. So when Spencer hears the tell tail sign of an Italian argument, he turns towards it with hope.

And a grin spreads across his face faster than a wild fire in a dry field out in California.

Nonna and two of Harley's cousins were making a beeline towards him through the hotel lobby after Spencer and the team had packed their go bags, and were preparing to make their way to the airport. The two cousins where Marco and Emilia, the twin grandchildren of Harley's uncle Gregorio. Marco's a cop in Trenton (working as far away from the Organized Crime division as possible), and Emilia runs a prohibition themed bar and burlesque lounge. Marco's newly married and Emilia is a newly single lesbian after her last girlfriend made a comment about Harley's sexuality, or lack therefore of.

The trio was bickering, using their body along with their words to convey their arguments. It's hilarious to watch, considering Nonna is much less restrained with her cursing than her grandchildren. And every time another curse fell from her lips, Spencer was amused by the scandalized looks that came across the twins faces. Spencer was used to it because Nonna along with Harley had taught him to speak Italian and Harley is much less reserved on the curses she uses in Italian than she is in English (bordering on cursing as much as her Nonna is now). Because of that, Harley tended to be favored more than the other cousins because she didn't hold as much back around her grandparents as her cousins did. She respected them, but she also didn't treat them like fragile china dolls.

"Nonna!" Marco finally yelled. "You can't say that about other people!"

"Says who?" Nonna asked, walking up to Spencer and putting her hands on his checks and looking at him. "Your too thin. Does mia nipote **(my granddaughter)** not feed you enough? Do I need to come down to Virginia and cook for you?"

"Harley is an excellent cook," Spencer laughed as Nonna pulled him down, kissing him on both cheeks and enveloping him in a tight hug. "I just travel a lot. Harley tries her hardest to fatten me up when I'm in town."

Like hell he was admitting that both he and Harley where often too busy with work to cook dinner and just order out most nights. Nonna would take that as Harley being a bad girlfriend. And in all honesty, despite the fact that it was both their faults that they didn't find time to cook often enough, something that had been their New Year's resolution to fix this year, the only person it wouldn't reflect well on in the old Italian woman's eyes was her granddaughter. So he fibbed.

Nonna tutted. Then she rolled her eyes as Marco and Emilia hugged him. They didn't kiss his checks like was customary, and for which Spencer was incredibly thankful for. Even after all these years with this family, kissing people who aren't Harley hasn't gotten any less weird. "You come home with us, and I feed you. Harley, Alma, and the orso **(bear)** are flying out as we speak with giant squid and lobster. We'll have calamari and lobster. And pasta and homemade bread. Fatten you right up."

Spencer laughed. If only she knew he ate like he had a hollow leg to fill, and he still didn't gain weight. And pasta and bread is a staple in Harley's diet, so he had plenty of that. He's pretty sure Harley could only eat pasta and bread for the rest of her life without ever complaining.

"Can I invite the rest of the team?" Spencer asked looking over his shoulder at the team behind him. They were all watching. He hadn't even had to look to know that.

Nonna looked behind Spencer at the team. "The old one. The Italian. He's Harley's father?"

Spencer blinked. "How did you…?"

"I had an education before I had a husband. Harley isn't the only female with an education in our family," Nonna shrugged. "Telling who belongs to who is an important thing to know. So I'm right. Besides, Alma told me. Does Harley know now?"

Spencer shook his head. "She doesn't want to know yet. I don't think she understands how to handle this yet."

"Harley is a very smart girl, but you and I both know that doesn't help people learn how to cope," Nonna explained, nodding. "She'll be fine, don't you worry. She survived Ben's death. She'll survive this. Just give her time. She just needs to wrap her head around this. Does he know?"

"Yes. Hotch didn't give him time to ask questions. I don't know if he knows that Harley doesn't know, but…"

Nonna nodded. "Invite them. I'll talk to him."

_._._._._

When Spencer and the team arrived at Nonna's home in Trenton, it was apparent that Harley and Nonna had beat them there. Kieran was outside, unloading a large cooler from the back of Gio's truck with Gio and Antonio's help. Nonna's little, bat-shit Pomeranian came running out of the house towards Spencer, barking up a storm. Instead of coming to Spencer to be held, the Pomeranian stopped a few feet from him and started barking at the team. He figured the team would think it was him that the dog was barking at, so he moved the few feet and scoped the tiny dog up and held it like a baby, just the way it likes. It shut right up. The damn thing loves being held like a baby.

Spencer didn't know the dog's name, mainly because Nonna's got three that are exactly identical. The only one who can tell them apart is Nonna. Everyone else, even Nonno, called them Cane ( **Italian for dog** ). From the barking he could hear coming from the back yard, he'd bet the other two where back there chasing down the younger cousins. Or trying to escape from them. The three little monsters where likely already here.

"Thank you for shutting that damn dog up," Kieran laughed, with his booming laugh. "I hate those goddamn things. And don't you dare go telling my kid or my wife I said that."

"Like Harley gives a shit about those dogs," Gio laughed. "She's the only girl I know who'd be a dog lady with like twenty dogs if she could, but Nonna's three? God help them if they ever run out into the street while Harley's behind the wheel of a car. They don't shut up and they bark at the wind. God only knows how Nonno hasn't shot any of them by now."

Antonio laughed. "He drugs their food periodically."

"Of course he does," Spencer smiled. "He drugs your kids' food when they're particularly rowdy."

"Shut up," Antonio told them as Gio and Kieran laughed. "I do it sometimes too, or god knows I'd be as celibate as the pope these days."

"They're called the little monsters for a reason," Gio laughed. "There's a reason I don't have kids, man."

"Besides the part where you don't have a wife or a girlfriend?" Kieran smirked. "Spencer, you going to help unload? Or even make some introductions? And I don't mean with the agent shit in front of everything."

"UH… This is my boss Hotch, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, JJ, Emily Prentis, and Penelope Garcia. Guys, these three are Kieran Isley, Harley's dad, and her cousins Giovanni and Antonio," Spencer made the introductions. "Don't ask me the dog's name. There's three and they're all identical, and none of us can tell which is which. Just call them Cane, and they'll respond."

"Bring the god damned food in already, you ritarda **(retards (A/N: I know it's not politically correct, but then Italian's seldom are, so apologies if this offends. It's not meant to, but it is men to be accurate to how the Italians I know and have grown up with talk)** ," Harley's aunt Marie called out from the house. "It's good to see you again, Spencer. Come inside. The coffee in the pot is still warm. And the old men have a game of cards going. Go take their money for me."

Spencer laughed. "Auntie Marie, these are the people I work with at the BAU. Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Morgan, Jareau, and Prentis. And our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia."

"Hmm… Come inside. Nonna's in the kitchen with Alma. The little cousins are out back. And I'll tell the boys to put away anything illegal," Aunt Marie shrugged. "Oh, and Harley went off for a little bit to talk to some friends in town. She should be back soon."

"She's joking about the illegal part," Spencer told the team.

"You hope she's joking," Antonio laughed. "God knows we all do."

They laughed at the truth in that statement as Antonio and Gio carried the cooler into the house.

"Come on in, you can try your best at profiling me inside," Spencer told the team. "Although, it's kind of chaos in there, so have fun."

Spencer put the dog down on the steps of the house and shooed it inside. He walked into the house and through to the kitchen where he greeted Alma, her mother, and many of the woman in her family. Only a few of them where cooking, while the rest had social hour away from their kids. The old men where gathered around the dining room table with a couple tumblers of alcohol, and a few lit cigars with the widows open to air out the smoke. There was a fan running in the room to ventilate. And most of the younger guys where in the back yard goofing off and monitoring the kids.

Spencer came up next to Alma, and slung an arm over her shoulder. Alma looked up and grinned when she saw him, reaching up to kiss him on both cheeks. "Oh, it's so good to see you, Spencer. It's been so long."

"Since Christmas," Spencer smiled, trying to appease her. "Hey, these nice women with me are JJ, Emily, and Garcia. They work with me so don't scare them too badly."

"Go play cards," Nonna told him, shooing him out of the kitchen while JJ, Emily and Garcia remained. "Beat those cheaters. Someone needs to."

Spencer laughed. "I'll try. It's good to see you, Alma. Lorena."

It's true. He could only try. He could almost always beat the team, but the old men at the dining room table right now are experienced card players and expert cheaters. They make it extremely difficult for Spencer to win a game easily. It's the closest thing he has anymore to playing chess with Gideon. And Spencer loves it.

"So the women are all in the kitchen?" Prentis asked before he walked back out of the kitchen. "That their place or something?"

"Don't ever let Harley here you say that. Or Alma. The women are in the kitchen because all of the kids know better than to go in there until it's time for them to wash the dishes. And only four or so are actually cooking. The rest are drinking and gossiping. The men are either gambling in the dining room or standing around the barbeque outside supervising the children," Spencer explained. "The kitchen also happens to be where the food gets served from, so anyone in the kitchen gets first serving. And the booze is stored in there. Harley's mother, Alma, will introduce you if you go in. And in the meantime, I need to track down my girlfriend."

JJ and Emily laughed while Garcia gave him a skeptical look, as they walked into the kitchen and were greeted with loud and happy welcomes.

"So, gambling in the dining room?" Rossi asked.

"Only if you have a lot of money your willing to loose. They cheat. It's hard for me to beat them. It's just the uncles and great uncles. None of the cousins want to try. They stick to playing 31 at the end of the night," Spencer explained. "Anyone under sixty tends to stay outside with the kids."

"I think I'll try my luck," Rossi told him with a look that told Spencer he knew that was where the young agent was going to be.

"Come on, I'll show you two outside, and introduce you to some of the cousins," Spencer told Hotch and Morgan, walking them to the door out to the back yard. "And then I'll be back in to play poker."

" _Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been."_

― John Greenleaf Whittier, _Maud Muller – Pamphl Andet_

* * *

 **Part 3**

" _I don't care about whose DNA has recombined with whose. When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching-they are your family."_

― Jim Butcher, _Proven Guilty_

" _This is part of what a family is about, not just love. It's knowing that your family will be there watching out for you. Nothing else will give you that. Not money. Not fame. Not work."_

― Mitch Albom, _Tuesdays with Morrie_

Spencer sat down at the dining room table with the old boys, Rossi sitting across the table from him and one of the little cousins in his lap. Around the table, there was Nonno, Nonna's remaining brother's (Vincent, Greggori, and Joe), and several of Harley's uncles and older generation cousins. The child sitting in his lap right now, is Aurora, who's the great-grandchild of Vincent. Aurora is three, and Spencer and Harley have noticed that she shows some of the early signs of dyslexia, so they've been paying special attention to her to confirm it. It just helps that Aurora has a huge crush on Spencer and basically attaches herself to his hip whenever he comes into her view. Spencer had sat down right in front of the fan because of the three year old, so that the tiny brunette got the cleanest air in the room

"Alright," Spencer smiled, "what's the game?"

They usually cycled through several games, including poker, blackjack, bridge, gin rummy, and BS. Occasionally they even pulled out the old Uno deck. The only problem with playing with them is that several of them swap cards, and the rules tend to change on whim. They are the biggest bunch of cheaters Spencer's ever met, and he'd grown up in Las Vegas.

"Poker," Nonno told him. "You going to help Spencer win, Rory?"

"Uh huh," Aurora grinned. "I'm gonna win."

"Of course we are," Spencer grinned.

"No, me. Not you," Aurora stated, giving Spencer the sternest look her childish face could manage. "Play."

The table laughed. And Nonno dealt, and the game began with money and chips pilling up on the table.

"So how long have you known Re—Spencer?" Rossi asked, stumbling over his name after realizing that the people at the table knew him by his first name rather than his last name.

"Mia nipote brought him home for Christmas a few years ago," Nonno shrugged, focused on the cards in front of him and the crystal glass of scotch in his hand. "In 2001, after the towers fell."

"He wasn't even her only boyfriend at that point," Uncle Joe added with a grin. "But he was the only boy she ever brought home."

Spencer grinned. It wasn't until 2003 that he and Harley became exclusive and she'd had multiple other partners at that point. And not all of them where male. And it was also around the time they became exclusive that Harley stopped forcing herself to comply to the amount of sex that most people thought was normal to have. Harley had had a point when she'd tried to have as much sex as was possible to try and force herself into enjoying having more sex than she wanted. Needled to say it didn't work out. And now they only have sex maybe once a month. Sometimes even once every two months. Which, don't get him wrong, Spencer is fine with. Harley wouldn't be Harley if she was normal. He'd known she was beautiful before he'd ever even seen a picture of her. Harley was special. And he liked that about her. And they'd never needed copious amounts of sex to keep their relationship going.

"What was Harley like growing up?" Rossi asked. Nonno gave him an inquisitive look. But he answered.

"We knew early on that nothing and no one was going to stop that girl. Nothing was going to get in her way and no one was going to put her down," Nonno told him. "Very stubborn. Very smart. And the first silent hell raiser that I've ever met. She, Giovanni, and Antonio where that generations triplet terror. And now poor Tonio is being paid back three fold while Gio and Harley sit back laughing."

"She was a sneaky little shit," Uncle Gregorio chimed in. "You'd think she was an innocent little girl, and then she'd clean you out over a game of poker, lie to your face over a game of Bullshit, and take all of your money in Monopoly. She played on the way people underestimated her and then kick you right in the balls without anyone even realizing how it happened. And Kieran would just laugh like it was the best thing in the world."

Gregorio cursed under his breath in thickly accented Sicilian, mindful of Aurora and how she just loved to parrot your bad words right back at you.

"They put her in normal school for a couple of months until she'd bitten, punched or kicked every last school bully, and staged a few riots in her class against her teacher or whatever else she found unfair. She was too smart, and normal school just didn't cut for her. It would have held her back in the long run, so my niece and her Irishman finally just hired some tutors and let Harley learn at her own pace, and learn the things she wanted to learn that school wouldn't have been able to teach her," Uncle Vincent shrugged, eyeing his cards before flicking his eyes to Spencer with an accusing glare like he believed Spencer was just going to steal the money out of his pockets. Spencer smirked in return.

"Kieran travels a lot for work, and he'd take Harley with him sometimes, while Declan and my daughter stayed at home because of school," Nonno smiled. "That girl learned to love travel early on. It's probably why she moved schools so often with college. Georgetown is probably the longest she's ever stuck with one school. Girls got ants in her pants, always has."

"You better not be saying anything bad about me," Harley laughed from the door way where she stood with one of the triplets on her hip with his head buried in her shoulder. She was bouncing him a little and running a hand down his back soothingly. The triplets had just exited the even more terrible threes, and moved on to the even worse fours. Of the three boys, there was Zion, Xander, and Zeke. Harley was holding Zion, the tiny little ringleader, who currently looked more sedate than normal.

"He okay?" Spencer asked, shifting Aurora on his lap as he turned to look at Harley.

"The diavolo povero (poor devil) conked his head on the edge of the island when he came running in for juice just as I got back from the Haywood building. Carmen's upstairs with a migraine and Tonio still has two others to chase down so he's stuck with me until he feels better. Nonno, do you have a copy of the Harry Potter books upstairs?" Harley asked, walking around to stand behind her grandfather. The Haywood building ment she was at Rangeman LLC's Trenton office, likely talking to her friend, and the owner of the multimillion dollar security company, Ranger Manoso

"Si," the old man replied. "Margo's little punk shit left it over Christmas."

Harley laughed. "Paulie's 12, Nonno. No normal twelve year old is anything other than a little shit. You can't expect more from the poor kid. He's still young, stupid, and surrounded by worse."

Uncle Vincent laughed. "Kid's an idiot. No excuse."

Harley laughed, shaking her head. "Whatever. I've got a book to go read and a pink little money in my arms. Hey, Uncle Joe, you might as well fold right now. It isn't going to get better if you play longer."

"HEY!" Uncle Joe yelled as Harley swiftly left the room. "I don't need you to tell me—Shit I fold."

The men around the table laughed.

_._._._._

Later as the family all sat around the extended dinning room table that a pair of the teenage nieces had set, along with one of the long folding tables, with the children all set up at tables in the living room, Spencer got pulled down to sit next to Alma Isley with the team broken up and seated at odd spots along the table. Harley was helping her cousin Mary place bowls of food on the two clusters of tables. Antonio and Carmen where seated at the far end of the adults table, closer to their kids but still far enough away from them to have a few moments of peace. And Gio was seated at the kids table, where most of the under 30 crowed got placed. Spencer had never sat at the adults table at Nonna's house before, and for that matter, neither had Harley. Spencer knew that she would automatically go to sit at the kids table, because nobody who wasn't married or over 35 ever got to sit at the adults table. And Harley wasn't either of those.

"Kitten, your sitting at the adults table tonight," Kierian told Harley, as he grabed her arm and pulled her down into the seat next to him and across from Spencer as she deposited her last bowl of food and moved to go to the kids table in the other room. For her part, Harley didn't question it, instead choosing extract her arm from her father's grasp, and smile at him.

"One minute. I've got to go rub it in Gio's face that I made it to the adults table before him."

"Harley!" Alma glared as Antonio barked a laugh from down the table.

"Fine, I'll do it after dinner. Shheess, you'd think I committed cardinal sin right in front of everyone," Harley muttered under her breath as she took her seat.

"Harley, say grace," Nonna demanded from the top of the table.

"Harley can't say grace, she's not catholic," Luca reminded her, to the teams confusion.

"Than you say it, stunad," Nonno shot back with a stern look. Luca paled and Harley bit back a laugh. Luca seemed to catch that look and shot her a glare from down the table. "Luca!"

Luca's gaze softened before he clasped his hands together and bowed his head. With most of the rest of the table following suit, even some of the team, and Harley and Alma. "Bless us, O Lord! and these Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen."

"Amen," the rest of the table echoed.

"Let's eat," Nonno called, reaching to grab a serving from the dish in front of him. For the next couple of minute's plates where passed up and down and around the table as everyone tried to get all of the things they wanted to eat. Even some of the kids and occupants of the kids table flocked to their table as they tried to get items that weren't also on the kids table. When all of the motion and bustle of the getting everyone's share of food was over, conversation broke out around the table. Harley and Kieran where in a debate that Spencer couldn't hear, Nonna and Alma where talking about Spencer and Harley and most of the team was asking the person nearest them about Harley, and Harley and Spencer. Rossi seemed to be particularly interested in that last one.

"So, Harley, you decided where you're going to work once your time working at NCIS is over?" Uncle Joe asked from a few seats down.

Harley got a look of her face, the same look she got on her face every time she was asked to talk about something where she has more information regarding a situation than she could admit to or talk of. Which made Spencer think that not all was right over at NCIS. And that concerned him because Harley is still employed there, and Tony works there. And Spencer loves Harley and he lives Tony on most days (mainly the ones where the other man isn't going and doing things with Harley that Spencer had planned to before one case or another ruined that. And those days weren't even really Tony's fault). He didn't want anything to happen to either of them, and the look on Harley's face told him he probably wouldn't get what he wanted.

"I got an open ended offer to go back to working at the Jeffersonian because of Zack's… departure from the institute. But I probably won't go back for a few months. Murphy is going to be on my ass about deadlines for the next few months so it'll let everyone collect themselves in the meantime. And Julian wants me out in LA for a couple of photo shoots with Dmitri."

"It'd be nice to have you near home for a while," Alma smiled. "Or it would be if I didn't already have plans to spend a few months in Tacoma with your brother and my first grandchild."

Harley rolled her eyes at her mother's obvious alluding to grandchildren. "And one of the brothers of an old friend of mine invited me over to England to help fix some problems of his for a little bit. He promised it'd be worth my wile and some added bonuses, just in case. Nothing has been set in stone yet so…"

Translation? "An old friend's brother, who runs the British government, called to tell me that said friend had once again fallen off the sobriety wagon again, and he wants me to come and help him clean it up. And there might also be some other things involved that we need not get into because they're likely above the security clearance of just about everyone else at the table. Oh, and he was willing to make it worth my wile if I did him this one favor."

"Then again, Devin Harper is doing a video series of extreme sports and activates from around the world, and he's asked me to come as a part of the group he's putting together. It sounds like fun, and he needs someone who's surfed big waves before. So, you know I have options."

That one didn't need a translation except the distinct feeling Spencer got that this trip was a cover for some other thing, and Devin Harper was absolutely not involved at all. Besides, when Harley went and did something with Devin, she almost always dragged Spencer along with her.

Alma was giving Harley a look of disappointment, like how dare she think of taking any offers that took her away from Spencer and set their not-yet-even-developed plans for their future back even farther. Rossi had a heart broken expression at the thought of the daughter he hadn't yet had time to get to know leaving the country before he got that time. And Kieran had a look of understanding on his face, just wanting Harley to do whatever was best for her at the moment.

"Well, now seems like a good time to toss my hat into the ring," Kieran smirked. "I've got a movie in the works right now that I could really use your monster makeup magic on, if you don't mind spending a couple months in New Zealand."

"Well it's not Australia," Harley laughed. "I've made a vow to never spend more than a few days in Australia after that time I found a huntsman spider in my coffee cup. I couldn't drink coffee for months afterwards, and I still don't know which was more traumatizing: the spider's leg touching my lip or the coffee withdrawals."

"The coffee," Antonio, Luca, and Spencer agreed as most of the table and the team laughed. Harley just shook her head with a smile on her face.

"I don't know, I'll think about it," Harley decided, going back to eating her food. "Did mom tell you guys all hear about Declan and Rowen's new baby already?"

And with that, the topic of conversation around the table changes, and Spencer watched Harley as words where passed up, down, and around table. And he watched how Harley's smiles seemed to begin to reach her eyes and the weight she'd carried on her shoulders seemed to leave her. And he knew that despite everything, despite her career being one step away from being up in the air, despite her biological father being seated just down the table without her knowledge, Harley would come away from this family gathering much happier than he'd seen her in a while. And that, despite everything, was well worth anything in Spencer's eyes. Harley deserved to be happy, Spencer had known this for as long as he'd known her. And she would come away from this night happy once again. Spencer could feel that in his bones.

And that made everything worth it.

"So who ended up winning the poker game?" someone asked during a thin lull in conversation.

"I did!" got shouted from somewhere over at the kids table. And that started a whole thunderstorm of laughter.

" _What is home? My favorite definition is "a safe place," a place where one is free from attack, a place where one experiences secure relationships and affirmation. It's a place where people share and understand each other. Its relationships are nurturing. The people in it do not need to be perfect; instead, they need to be honest, loving, supportive, recognizing a common humanity that makes all of us vulnerable."_

― Gladys M. Hunt, _Honey for a Child's Heart: The Imaginative Use of Books in Family Life_

* * *

 **Part 4**

" _The future is never just one choice. It's a thousand. And they never stop. You will choose your future every day of your life. And should you wake up one day to find that you regret the choice you made the day before, then make a new one. Don't worry about whether you might be wrong someday. Worry about whether you're right now. Tomorrow can wait."_

― Cora Carmack, _All Played Out_

After everyone was finished eating dinner, and the plates and dishes were taken from the table to the kitchen to be washed by the teens (or at least the ones who Spencer and Harley weren't helping do science homework), coffee was distributed and the deck of cards where pulled out for a game of 31. The team had begun to pack up and Spencer knew that they, and likely he as well, would be leaving soon. He was sitting on the floor in the living room with Harley resting back against him as they helped some of her teenage cousins with their science homework. Harley was helping identify bones on a skeleton chart, while Spencer was helping with some physics equations.

"I keep confusing the metacarpals with the metatarsals," Aunt Marie's son Franklin frowned.

Harley gave him a small smile. "You drive a car and you walk on tar. So when you think of your metacarpals and metatarsals, just remember the car and tar part and know that your metacarpals are in your hands, and your metatarsals are in your feet."

"So how do you remember the difference between mitosis and meiosis?" Angie, Harley's second cousin asked by her Uncle Vincent.

"Mitosis happens in your toes, and meiosis happens in your… sex organs," Harley laughed. "Mitosis is the part of the cell cycle in which a cell nuclei separates and becomes two identical cells. Meiosis is a type of cell division that divides the chromosomes in the parent cells by half, and that half is the half of your DNA that your parents passed on to you. Thus meiosis is the way in which eggs and sperm are produced, and mitosis is the way our bodies produce new cells to replace dead cells."

"Dude, you should be a science teacher," Will, Uncle Joe's grandson, laughed.

"Yeah, no. I think we can all agree that I am way overqualified to be a science teacher," Harley smiled.

"Did you get any job offers in the states?" Spencer asked quietly after a few more moments in which the teens in front of them scribbled out answers to their homework.

"Hawaii would like to have me back and Stanford made a pretty nice offer. I'll probably just end up waiting a few months until Zach's lapse in logic and subsequent incarceration isn't so fresh on everyone's mind and see about being the second anthropologist on Jeffersonian payroll. It'll give me a few months to finish writing that book that Murphy is going to hound me over and time to drop off the map for a few weeks," Harley sighed.

"Drop off the map?" Spencer asked skeptically. He knew what that meant in a general sense, seeing as Harley had done it before, so he wasn't worries, but clarification always helped.

"I'll probably end up visiting Callen for a few days and then go to England to help sober up my favorite English drug addict. And then… well a few days of surfing never hurt anyone," Harley shrugged. "I don't really know. I haven't exactly worked it all out just yet."

Spencer pulled her closer to him and kissed the top of her head. Harley wasn't the type to just plan out her future to the last detail. She might plan for general events to happen, such as moving into the house in Springfield sometime this summer, or to get married in the next couple years, but she wasn't one to plan ahead all the nitty gritty details about those events. So it wasn't a surprise that Harley had worked out things she wanted to do while still not deciding definitely what she would do. And besides, she'd probably only last a few weeks without work before she'd be incapable of remaining that way as long as she planned for. So the less she actually planned out, the less plans that where likely to end up canceled by the end of it.

Suddenly, Harley's phone made a sound and she checked it. "Shit."

"Harley?"

"Looks like your not the only one who will be leaving soon. NCIS needs me back at the Navy Yard. Something happened," Harley explained, moving to stand up and turning back to help Spencer to his feet once she'd done so.

"Need a ride down there?" Spencer asked, curious as to how she'd be getting from Trenton to DC.

"No need. Just need a ride to the airport. Abby's got me on a flight going out in an hour. Apparently they'd prefer for me to get back in two hours and thirty minutes rather than wait the extra hour a car ride would add."

Spencer raised his eyebrows secptically.

"I know, right? Something bad must be going on," Harley added. "I'll see you back in the capitol I guess."

"Your not going to let me drive you to the airport?"

"Nah, the neighbor next door is a police officer who owes me a favor. I figure I can get a ride out of him, and then raise you back to DC," Harley smiled. He'd already figured she wouldn't have one of her family members miss the end of the night game of 31, but he hadn't anticipated her finding another ride so quickly. "Come on, lets go say goodbye to everybody."

Saying goodbye in the Benivieni family includes much the same thing as saying hello, except the entire exchange lasts more than twice as long. Each goodbye includes a strong hug and a kiss on the cheek. And that goes for everyone, no matter their age or gender. The only deviation in this ritual is with the children who may, depending on the family member, get their cheeks pinched. Spencer wasn't accustomed to this sort of exchange, only really having to partake in it a few times a year, so it all still felt extremely awkward. Then again, it really worked to affirm his belief that they considered him a member of the family.

He could feel the teams eyes on him as he exchanged farewells with the large group that had come to gather around him when they herd he was leaving, and he suddenly wasn't feeling too happy about the ride back to DC. The team was sure to ask questions, Rossi even more than the rest of them. And when all the goodbyes where given and the team pilled back into the two SUVs they'd come in, Spencer watched the crowd of family wave them off with a sad smile.

He watched Harley climb into the truck belonging to that police officer neighbor her grandparents shared as the SUVs pulled away from the curb and started on down the street.

"Man, you never told me how long your relationship has that been going on?" Morgan asked.

"Harley and I were pen pals since we were 13. We started dating on and off once we were 18. And we became exclusively involved at 21. So seeing as we're both 26 now, I'd say—"

"Alright, I get it. But seriously, why didn't you tell any of us? Did Gideon know?"

"I don't think Gideon knew. Hotch already knew about Harley before any of you. And I joined the team at 22, Morgan. Do you think any of you would have taken my relationship with Harley seriously back then? I was just the kid on the team. If I'd added a girlfriend to that, you guys wouldn't have taken me seriously. Trust me. Seeing how Agent Booth at the Hover Building treats their 22 year old psychologist has completely reaffirmed my belief that I did the right thing. Lance Sweets has two PhDs, and Agent Booth still treats him like he's twelve. Hell, before Sweets there was Zack, and Booth didn't even talk to Zack for the first year he knew him, and Zack was older than Sweets is when they meet."

Rossi chuckled from the front seat, while Morgan looked at him from the rearview mirror. Garcia just smiled at him. Hotch, Prentis, and JJ where in the SUV in front of them.

"So you two have been fully dating for five years now," Garcia smiled taking a jump in conversation. "Any plans to pot the question?"

Spencer rolled his eyes and looked out the window. "Harley and I have talked about it. Her family has pestered us about it enough for us to do that much. And even my mom got in on that game. We'll probably get married in a couple years, but that's all I'm saying about that. Harley grew up with a lot of girls who got married right out of high school, or right out of college. And we still have like three weddings to go to this year alone for some people Harley knows and is friends with. It's just not something either of us feel needs to happen right at the moment."

"Aw, how sweet," Garcia gushed. "You guys have talked about getting married!"

Reid shot her a stern look, inwardly begging her to drop the subject.

"So do you think Harley's really going to leave the country after her time with NCIS is over? Because that really cuts into the time I have to get to know this illusive girlfriend of yours."

Spencer rolled his eyes. Of course Garcia had to ask that.

"She'll probably spend a few weeks in England. She hasn't been out to see her friends there in a while and I'm sure whatever her friend is offering her is good. It's funny, really. The two friends she has there that she'll be spending time with, they're both my and Harley's level of genius. But their mom, who was this big time professor before she had kids, makes all four of us looks stupid in comparison," Spencer offered. "I think she's more likely to go spend some time in LA with her old foster brother, and just surf her heart out. But she won't be gone long. Harley doesn't do well with excess down time, especially when there's no one really spend that down time with."

Spencer could feel Rossi's eyes on him through the rearview, but he chose to ignore it. If David Rossi wanted to ask him a question, he could ask it. It's not like Spencer was required to answer.

"Does Harley know, you know about…?"

"No. She doesn't. I don't think she's really mentally ready to know yet. She's… Last year there was a compartment that was unearth with the bodies of two little boys, twins, in it. And apparently one of the boys effectively killed himself to attempt to prolong his brother's life. Harley was one of the people who was trying to discover what had happened to them, abet from Hawaii. And finding that out broke her. Right now, that's where she's at. With horrible facts placed in front of her, and more facts to find. And she just needs time right now to deal with all of it. She'll go looking for the rest of the answers once she's really dealt with the original trauma."

Rossi nodded his head in front of him, thoughtful.

Later, once they were only a half hour outside of DC, Spencer's phone beeped with an incoming text.

 **Director Shepard is dead.**

" _It's a funny thing, how much time we spend planning our lives. We so convince ourselves of what we want to do, that sometimes we don't see what we're meant to do."_

― Susan Gregg Gilmore, _Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen_


	13. Chapter 13: September 2008

**Authors Note: So for those of you who have noticed, the number chapters have decreased without the number of words diminishing. I ended up taking the old chapters 12-15, and combined them all down into one chapter that encompasses the events of May. So this is the new chapter 13, and I hope you enjoy. If anyone gets done reading this and has any ideas, I'd love to hear some of them. They'd be much appreciated and I could really use the help.**

 **Any who, on to the usual disclaimer: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy. And please review at the end. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley. And if you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, I may not use them, but I'd like to hear them, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions you send my way. Message me, or leave your idea in the review section, I'll be looking at both.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and support, and all your kind words of encouragement, weather you use your account to post the review or do it anonymously! Now on with the chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 13: September 2008

" _Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring-it was peace."_

― Milan Kundera

Between May and September, Spencer barely saw Harley except for the sporadic weekend. First she went back to LA for a week. And then another week was spent in England. Then, Harley was in Virginia for a week moving her things from her apartment to the newly finished house in Springfield. At the end of those first three weeks, Harley packed a duffle bag, kissed him goodbye and told him she'd be in the wind for a while and that she'd see him when she could. They'd video chat most weekends and talk on the phone most days for three months. And then Harley returned, her hair freshly cut into a long bob, the color of her hair a little darker, her skin milky pale, and her eyes a little more clear than they'd been in a while. Her shoulders where held a little higher, and her back was a little straighter, and a weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

The next week, Harley spent moving Spencer into the house (which mostly consisted of first finding Schrodinger the cat and dragging him out of hiding and into his travel gage. Schrodinger hadn't been seen at the house since his release, although Spencer's pretty sure he's heard hissing more than enough times to know he's being stalked.), before taking one last week to go back to LA before she rejoined the Medical-Legal lab at the Jeffersonian. But Harley was sure to call him a couple times a day that week, and Spencer was busy with a case anyway, and so the last seven days of Harley's unemployed adventures passed by without Spencer really noticing them at all.

Now, Harley was back to working full time, and Spencer was happy to have her back in town with no eminent threat of her departure. The weight of May's revelation was lifted from her shoulders now. Spencer figured she'd come to terms with it but put it to the back of her mind because she hadn't mentioned it since she left on her three month disappearance.

She also hadn't seen his team in all of that time. And that seemed to weigh on Rossi. So Spencer was all too surprised when Harley walked into the BAU with BC held close to her chest. She had on a pair of black skinny jeans that went to her waist, a cream colored blouse under a black leather jacket, and a pair of classic black Louboutins. She also had on a purple colored cloche hat on over her not yet shoulder length hair. All together it was an extremely put together look, and except for the dog in her arms and the plum colored leather purse on her shoulder, Spencer wouldn't even be surprised by the outfit. He hadn't realized she owned a colored purse, and Harley rarely brought BC out and around with her.

"Harley?"

"A bunch of dogs are going to die," Harley stated ominously as she looked at Spencer, drawing closer to his desk. His brow furrowed and he received a few odd looks from Morgan who was the only other team member currently in the bullpen, but he got up from his desk to grab her and pull her more quickly towards his desk. "We just finished a case that involved a dog fighting ring, and the murder weapon was this sweet German Shepard that's going to be put down because his mean old master couldn't find a knife or a gun to kill a guy with like a normal person. I mean, honestly, how many people get killed by dogs a year?"

Spencer opened his mouth to answer the statistic he already knew as he pulled Harley down onto his lap in his desk chair. But her mouth hit his before any words could come out and Spencer was simply left blinking in shock. And the purse she'd carried into the bullpen dropped to the floor by his desk

"Don't answer. I don't want to know."

 _While at least 4.5 to 4.7 people get bitten by dogs in the US every year, only about 20 to 30 people a year die because of dog bites_ , Spencer chose to internally answer. But since Harley didn't want to know, Spencer wouldn't tell her, mainly because she'd be sadder about the amount of dogs that got put down as a result that about the actual number of people hurt. Harley was just one of those people who could watch the commercials about starving children in Africa without batting an eye, but would ball her eyes out over the ASPCA commercials. Not that she watched much TV, outside of re-runs, Doctor Who, and the Christmas movies that plagued the holidays.

"Hard case?" Spencer asked, already knowing the answer. They hadn't gotten the house warming adopted dog yet, but suddenly Spencer saw it coming in their very near future.

"The worst. On top of the dog fighting rings, and the dog being our murder weapon, there was this oh so awful doggie graveyard, and all the poor dogs who will get put down either because they're pitbulls, or because they're too aggressive. But on a positive note, Tony's back from his voyage at sea," Harley explained. She had a frown fixed on her face, BC clutched tightly in her arms, and her head leaning against his shoulder. Spencer could tell it'd been a hard few days for her, especially since they'd probably had to bring all of the dogs back to the lab to check their teeth to see who's matched with the bits on the victim. But at least Tony was back after a four month assignment as an Agent Afloat out in the Atlantic. Harley had missed him, and Spencer had too, for that matter. "But Dr. B wants to adopt the dog that killed our vic, and some poor sap is going to have to tell her he's getting put down. So I left the lab before I had to be the one to tell her, went home and grabbed BC, and then came here. I just… I don't know. I wanted to be near you, because you just kind of make things seem better without me really having to do anything, and I've been having a panic attack building for the last day now. I just… I didn't want to start irrationally crying at work, so… I came here in the hopes you could help stave off the panic."

Spencer frowned at her. She really shouldn't have driven all the way to Quantico from DC on the verge of a panic attack. It really couldn't have been healthy. She should have just gone home and laid down with the dogs for a while and then called him. Not that he'd voice that opinion to Harley right now. He didn't feel like now was the time to be on the receiving end of one of her glares.

"Plus I've been putting something off for a while now, and I've decided to put on my big girl panties and do it," Harley admitted after a few moments and a couple calming breaths. She was looking up at Rossi's office with haunted eyes, and that's when Spencer knew his earlier conclusion about Harley remaining ignorant of who her parents where was wrong.

"How long have you known?" Spencer asked, his eyes on her face.

"Three and a half months. I asked Fornell right before I disappeared to parts still unknown to you," Harley sighed. "I've been talking to a psychologist since I got back. Well, I've been talking to Sweets, and he's a psychologist, so it think that counts."

Spencer gave a silent laugh. "So, you've come to terms with it?"

"Not really, but I've come to have a better understanding of the situation. To my biological parents, I'm always going to be their child. But I've grown up being someone else's child, and to me their always going to be my parents because I don't really remember any different," Harley explained. "So there's this disconnect. And I have two choices: I can get to know my biological parents, or I could go on in blissful ignorance and continue living my life like nothing's changed. And option two, while it sounds nice, is out of the running because you happen to work with my biological father. So in actuality, I have the choice of getting to know him and figuring out who we are to eachother and going from there."

"Sorry?" Spencer asked, not sure if he should be apologizing.

Harley rolled her eyes. "I don't blame you. I mean he was retire for years when you joined the team, how were you to know that he'd come back after ten year?"

"I know right?" Spencer laughed with Harley. "So do you want to go out for ice cream after I get done at work, and you've had time to talk to… Rossi."

Harley smiled up at him. "You know just what to say to make me want to go home with you, don't you?"

Spencer looked at her with a smile, turning his head to escape the on slot of licks from BC who had managed to get loose from Harleys grasp. "Where else would you go home to?"

Harley laughed. "That's entirely besides the points, Pen. Honestly. But seriously, I'd really like to get that ice cream afterwards."

"Then first don't you have to go upstairs to Rossi's office and talk to him?"

"Now why do you have to be all reasonable and responsible?" Harley pouted, standing up from his lap and adjusting BC in her arms. "You know, on second thought, you hold her while I go and talk to Rossi?"

Then, Harley promptly deposited BC in his lap and grinned at him before going towards Rossi's office. Spencer had to battle BC to get her to behave as she made a rush play for his face. He finally flipped her over and held her like a baby with one arm so he could get back to writing out his paperwork. His eyes caught Harley's right before she knocked on the door to Rossi's office and he gave her an encouraging smile.

"What's going on with Harley?" Morgan asked from his own desk. "And is that dog really even allowed in the building?"

Spencer reached into the purse that Harley had left sitting on the floor near his desk and pulled out the service vest that BC hatted wearing to show Morgan. "Derek Morgan meet Harley's service dog, BC. Her other dog, Slade, is currently being trained as a cadaver dog."

"Your girlfriend has two dogs? Doesn't she fear the Reid Affect?" Morgan joked.

Spencer smiled at him in a condescending way. He released his hold on BC a little and the small dog made a mad dash to lick his face. "Do you see a Reid Affect going on?"

"It's official then. Harley's magic," Morgan laughed.

Spencer shock his head, getting BC settled down again so he could go back to his paperwork.

_._._._._

Harley knocked on the door to the office of the man who'd been on her mind on and off for months now. She waited for the anticipated "Come in" before entering and gave a small smile when she saw his face.

"Hi," she greeted the man, whom she had meet a few times before. But this time was different. This time was like a first time. Like she'd meet him before as Agent Rossi, a man who worked alongside Spencer. But know… now he was more than that. Who exactly he was to her was yet to be determined, not in the sense that she didn't know what it was supposed to be, but in that she didn't know what he could be. She already had a father, and as her parents had never devoiced, she'd never had to adapt to a step-father. So she didn't really know how to adapt to a second father figure. Or, well, second father was likely a more accurate description. Although if she really thought about it, he was more like her first father, chronologically and biologically. But she was really starting to get ahead of herself. "I, um… I talked to Agent Fornell, so I know you know about… and, well, now I know as well. Have for a few months actually. But I mean… it was a lot to wrap my head around at first, so I didn't approach you immediately afterwards. And then one thing led to another, and now it's September. And I'm screwing all this up aren't I?"

David Rossi just stated at her, seeming shocked by her abrupt arrival. He didn't say anything for a few moments, and Harley didn't either, instead choosing to stay close to the now closed door. "Why don't you come sit down? And we can talk."

Harley walked into the room and sat down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of Rossi's desk. "I don't know how this is supposed to go really. I haven't had to meet a new set of parents since I was four. And, if I'm being honest, I don't really remember that all that well."

Rossi seemed to thing on that statement before he asked his question. "How many families fostered you before you were placed with the Isley's?"

"Three. I spent three months each with the first two, and only a few weeks with the last one. And then I got moved into the Isley's care along with one of the boys I'd been with at that last house," Harley explained feeling weird about it. She didn't talk about her time in foster care with a lot of people. Spencer knew the number of houses and the amount of time she'd spent there. And her parents knew, as well. But she only ever went into detail about it with her foster brother, or share a story about it with Dr. Brennan. She just… Harley didn't have a lot of stories about foster care, and none of them were happy. She had the most stories about that last house before the Isley's, and she'd spent the least amount of time there. "I got placed with the Isley's when I was four, and they adopted me when I was five. No new families since then. Well, there was Spencer's mom, but that's a whole different ball park."

"And you read the journal that catalyzed all of this?" Rossi asked.

"Read the journal, the case reports, the investigators notes, and about every scrap of paper I could find on it," Harley explained. "Of course I had it all redacted so I didn't have to read names until I'd wrapped my head around it. It made everything less person, I guess. Easier to deal with."

Rossi frowned at her.

"I'm not a normal person," Harley sighed. "You work with Spencer, so you have to understand that having a genius IQ doesn't really help people to have normal emotional capacities. Basically at this point, the only reason I can fake being a normal human being is having been raised with such a big family. I just… emotions aren't my strong suit, and May was just an awful month for me in general. I just… I didn't know how to deal with the journal and everything that came with it, so I shut down emotionally, and I took off as soon as I could. It took me three weeks after I last saw you to even ask Fornell for the results of his investigation and the DNA test."

"And the rest of the time?"

"Deciding where to go from there. Deciding what to do, and how to react, and figuring out my options. And then today… we had a hard case at work, and I wanted to see Spencer, and I realized I only really have one option. I can get to know you, and we can decided what shape our relationship takes. And then we can go from there. Because you work with Spencer, my other option of avoidance isn't ever going to work. So… where do you want to go from here?"

"I'd like to get to know you," Rossi told her. Harley nodded.

"So how would you like to accomplish that?"

" _Owners of dogs will have noticed that, if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they will think you are god. Whereas owners of cats are compelled to realize that, if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they draw the conclusion that they are gods."_

― Christopher Hitchens, _The Portable Atheist: Essential Readings for the Nonbeliever_

* * *

 **Authors Note: For all of you who have anything at all to say about my story, please review. I always love the feedback and any ideas anyone is willing to offer. I love all of your feedback and it really helps me out.**

 **Thank you so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day after reading this.**


	14. Chapter 14: October 2008

**Authors Note: Please review. As I come to the conclusion of Winter Quarter, and my time before finals from two weeks away to less, I won't be able to write as much, but I will try my hardest, and I'll be sure to post an update during Spring break at the latest. And to all of you out there who are in the same boat as I am, my prayers are with you, and Godspeed. But please, please review. Your encouragement is so nice to have and it helps me to know if I'm doing things right or if I'm doing it wrong, or just whatever you guys feel about this story.**

 **Any who, on to the usual disclaimer: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy. And please review at the end. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley. And if you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, I may not use them, but I'd like to hear them, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions you send my way. Message me, or leave your idea in the review section, I'll be looking at both.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and support, and all your kind words of encouragement, weather you use your account to post the review or do it anonymously! Now on with the chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 14: October 2008

" _We can't be afraid of change. You may feel very secure in the pond that you are in, but if you never venture out of it, you will never know that there is such a thing as an ocean, a sea. Holding onto something that is good for you now, may be the very reason why you don't have something better."_

― C. JoyBell C.

Only a few weeks later, at the beginning of October, Harley and Rossi sat down at a classy restaurant in DC. Harley's hair was styled with retro finger curls, and she had on a nineteen twenty's beaded dress that she'd found at The Way We Wore, a vintage clothing store in LA. She still wore a pair of Louboutins rather than a more vintage heel, but then she had an impressive collection of Louboutins. Rossi was wearing one of his nicer suits and he pulled her chair out for her before she sat down.

"So, forensic anthropology. How did you discover that field?" Rossi asked as he sat down. He felt it was a safe subject. And it seemed to be as Harley smiled at him as soon as he was done asking.

"One of my great aunts, her son went MIA during Vietnam. And when I was 17, forensics determined that one of the bodies they'd gotten back belonged to that missing son. And just looking at her afterwards, at the funeral that she finally got to give her son… something that was missing for her was returned. And despite the fact that her son was dead, she had this closure that came from knowing what happened to her son," Harley explained. "I found out about forensic anthropology after that. I already had a degree in forensic science, so I didn't need as many classes as I would have."

"And school? High school?" Rossi enquired.

Harley grinned indulgently at him. "I was home schooled after biting a few other children and maybe a teacher or two. It helped my gymnastics schedule when I got into gymnastics, and it let my… it gave Alma the flexibility to sign me up for as many dance classes, play groups, and scouting troops as she desired. And when I got older, it let me go with… Kieran to some of his filming locations," Harley explained. "I got to learn at my own speed. And I got to socialize with people I liked and I wasn't put in too big of groups so that the adults couldn't notice bullying behavior. I was very sheltered from the outside world, but… well I'd rather that than what happened to Spencer. And with as many cousins as I grew up with, I got used to teasing and mocking without all the intended hurt that comes with it."

"The Isley's sound like they really took good care of you," Rossi smiled sadly. Harley's smile matched his as she reached across the table to grab his hand in comfort.

"I never felt like I was anything less than their child while in their care," Harley told him. "They made sure I got all the help I needed, and the chance to learn anything I wanted while letting me be secure enough in my enviorment to express myself and to find out who I was outside of them and their household. They gave me the space I needed to grow despite their own worries and in the face of their own fears. They were fantastic parents, which is why all of this has been so challenging for me. Because I don't know you, and so I don't know wither it have been better or worse or just different to have been raise by you. And at the same time you're the one who was supposed to raise me, and you didn't get that chance because of the actions of another person. And as a result you don't know me, either. And it's all just a very unfortunate situation."

"That we can rectify," Rossi told her, as the waiter came over to collect their drink orders. "If you want to."

Harley smiled at him before turning to look at the waiter who had just asked what she'd like to drink. "Is there any chance I can get a bubbly lemonade?"

"Sprite and lemonade? I'm sure we can manage," the waiter told her.

"Thank you," Harley responder with a grin.

"I'll have a scotch on the rocks," Rossi answered. Then as the waiter walked away he aske another question. "The non-alcoholic drink is that a religious choice or just personal preference?"

"Personal preference mostly. It's easier that getting carded at all the nice restaurants," Harley laughed. "Actually Spencer and I once spent a night bar hoping to see who'd get carded more. It ended in a tie. No one wanted to serve us drinks without thoroughly examining out driver's license first. And that was just last year."

Rossi smiled at her story. "So you and Spencer are happy together."

"We are," Harley grinned. "We understand each other on a level that not many others have been able to understand us at. And our jobs help us to understand what one another goes through, which is a good thing in our line of work. I think the only down side is our own conflicting case schedules."

"But you work through it. That's good," Rossi told her. "So I know you've worked for NCIS and the Jeffersonian Institute, but have you worked anywhere else?"

"I've done modeling work, mostly when I was in college, and I also did some summer costuming and make-up design work for…Kieran over summer holidays where I wasn't on mission trips. But after my gymnastics career ended when I was 19, I went to work in the forensic lab at NCIS, and I switched over to working as an assistant and intern at the Jeffersonian at 22," Harley offered. "I've also worked as a security consultant at the Montecito Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas, as well as being a financial backer to the startup of a security company that started off in Trenton a few years ago."

"Security? I don't think I've ever met another scientist that was also a security consultant," Rossi enquired, perplexed that the depth and complexity of the woman in front of him.

Harley laughed. "I dabble in computers and I can pick a card counter off the floor of a busy casino with ease. Plus… Alma and the former NCIS Director Tom Morrow sent me to FLETC to see wither I'd fail or not. I'm pretty sure there was a betting pool going."

The waiter came over, interrupting their conversation and taking their food orders.

"So, why don't we figure out what we have in common," Rossi stated, getting conversation moving again. "As I'm sure you've heard, I write books. I'm a former marine, and I have three ex-wives, your… biological mother being the first."

"Ok, I write books as well, under an alias. I'm a retired Olympic gymnast. And Spencer is my only long-term relationship outside of family," Harley responded. "So was it Vienam or Desert Storm?"

"Veitnam," Rossi answered before following up with a question of his own. "You mentioned writing under an alias. Can I ask what name you right under?"

"H S Isles," Harley informed him. "So your Italian, right?"

"Long Island born and raised," Rossi responded. The conversation picked up from there and Harley and Rossi managed to turn what had started off being a rather awkward dinner into… well, something far less akward with a small side of bonding. Their relationship still had a long way to go, but this dinner was a very good starting block for the both of them.

_._._._._

When Spencer went off to the self-sustaining ranch that the Christian cult run by Benjamin Cyrus to investigate possible inappropriate relations between young women and adult males in Colorado, Harley and the Jeffersonian team where investigating a very interesting body. The top half of the body had washed up on shore and the bikini top and implants suggested female. Upon analysis of the bottom half of the body, the victim proved to be female transsexual, with the pelvic bone of a male and a vagina to contradict that.

The team at the Jeffersonian where just discovering that their victim was one Patricia Ludmilla (the missing pastor of a close-knit Inclusion church) when Colorado state police arrived that the compound that Spencer and Prentis where currently interviewing girls at.

In Colorado, a couple hours later, as the team arrive on sight, Hotch turned to Rossi as the team exited and walked away from the SUV.

"Dave, they've left the choice of negotiators up to me," Hotch told him

"I taught most of the Hostage Negotiation Unit. You want a recommendation?" Rossi asked.

"I'm making you the lead negotiator," Hotch informed him.

"Me?"

"Why go to the students when I have the teacher?"

"Because the teacher is emotionally involved. So is the agent in command," Rossi supplied.

"I know I am. This is a unique situation. We have two agents who could affect the outcome on the inside."

"True but I can't be objective, I know them too well." Plus there was Harley's relationship Spencer, as well as Rossi's own potential relationship with Harley. Should he wish it to progress any further seemed to lay in his abilities to get the youngest agent out alive at this moment.

"This outcome depends as much on our ability to predict the moves of Prentis and Reid as Cyrus. That's why you're the best man for the job."

"Assuming Reid and Prentis are still in a condition to make moves." And God help us all if they aren't, was left unsaid.

"I know how bad this is, that's why I want you to be the one doing to talking."

"Alright," Rossi responded just as the Attorney General of Colorado rolled up to try and through some weight around, only to be stopped by Hotch.

Rossi pulled out his phone, looking at it and wondering if anyone had called to tell Harley about any of this.

_._._._._

"Hello." Rossi, Hotch and Morgan stood around the phone, listening to it that night from their base camp outside of the parimiters of Liberity Ridge.

"You killed my mommy and daddy. Are you going to kill me too?" a little girls voice asked over the phone.

"No one is going to kill you honey," Rossi responded

"This is Benjamin Cyrus, who am I talking to?" a soft spoken voice came over the line a few seconds latter.

"David Rossi. I'm an FBI agent. We sent the state police away. There's just us and the local sheriff. All we want to do is resolve this before anyone else gets hurt."

"Then leave us alone."

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Benjamin. One of the police bleed out on the way to the hospital." Plus, they had two of their agents in there. "So let's just stop this before it gets any worse. Please just put down your guns and come out."

"We're believers, Dave. We believe that God says what he means and means what he says. His laws don't depend on what state you live in."

"I have no issue with your beliefs."

"You don't. But the state does."

"I can't answer for other people."

"Oh, God will answer for everyone in the final battle, I foresee."

"That's why I'm here. To make sure that this is not that battle."

"We shall see."

"Now, the three child services workers…" Rossi started with batted breath

"One of them is dead." This caused the three men sitting around the phone to hold their breath "It wasn't us."

"I need a name. To inform the family." All the while hoping that family wouldn't end up being Harley.

"Her name was Nancy Lunde." Cue the collective exhale.

"Okay. Now, please, Benjamin, send out your wounded. I promise you, they'll be well taken care of."

"With enough supplies we can tend to our own."

"Okay. I need a few hours to put it together. I'll bring them myself. At first light." And so the plan to confirm Reid and Prentis where both unharmed began.

"Has anyone contacted Harley?" Rossi asked. Morgan looked at him skeptically but Hotch gave a nod.

"I called the agent she works with. Agent Booth. He informed me that their in the middle of a case of their own in a religious community, and he needs Harley for her knowledge in small religious communities. He'll inform her when they solve their case."

Rossi nodded.

Now all that was left was to gather supplies and wait.

_._._._._

Rossi figured Harley would end up in Colorado sooner than she did. She arrive the night before their planned 3 AM raid of the compound. With her with her was Special Agent Gibbs, who had a frown on his face and a coffee cup in his hand.

Harley was in a tight fitting but work appropriate, strapless little black dress with a loose grey cardigan over top that likely belonged to Spencer. She had a grey beanie over her hair and whatever heels she might have been wearing earlier had since been replaced by a worn pair of red Vans. She looked worried and she sagged against Gibbs' side as Rossi approached the pair.

"Spencer's in there?" she asked when Rossi got close enough.

"Yes," Rossi nodded. "But you didn't have to come."

"The last time Spencer was kidnapped I wasn't there. I wasn't going to not be here this time," Harley replied. "I don't make the same mistake twice. Not when it comes to Spencer. Besides, my own case is as good as solved, and there's nothing Booth needs from me that I can't tell him over the phone."

Rossi and Gibbs sat Harley down in a chair and then walked a few hours away from her, watching from a small distance as she seemed to curl into herself, drawing her knees up under her chin.

"There anything I can do to help?" Gibbs asked.

"Just keep an eye on Harley. She doesn't seem to be reacting well to this," Rossi informed him.

"Nearly two years ago, Spencer got kidnapped in what should have been a routine witness interview, had the witness not been the murderer. Harley was working at the JPAC center on Oahu at the time and didn't come home to be with him afterwards. This is just reminding her of that," Gibbs answered. Gibbs gave him one more look before walking back over to Harley and taking a seat next to her.

A few hours later, as the FBI moved in closer to the compound, Harley jumped as gun shots rang out.

"He's just trying to get attention," Gibbs told her, running a calming out hand up and down her arm as he took a sip of a new cup of coffee.

They sat in silence until the building blew up and then Harley was up and out of her seat with her hands covering her mounth. There was tears streaming down her face when Specner finally came to the mobile base. She race to his, launching herself into his arms arm and causing him to stumble at the impact of their collision. Spencer wrapped his arms around Harley in a tight embrace holding her closely to him.

To Spencer this was the best feeling in the world, having Harley in his arms, and knowing all was once again well. All was once again right in his world.

To Harley, the relief she felt in this moment was the single fiercest emotion in her universe at the moment. Nothing was more powerful than the feeling of all the worry draining from her body, and there was little she could do to keep herself incontrol and not cry.

A few feet behind and in front of them, Rossi and Gibbs watched on as the couple embraced. It was a powerful picture. And it made Rossi realize that in getting to know his daughter, he would also have to get to know the genius she was in love with. And Gibbs watched the two kids who he'd gotten to know and respect over the last few years with a smile on his face. It'd been 17 years since his own little girl had been killed, but he like to imagine that had she been alive she'd have found someone as good for her as Spencer was for Harley.

_._._._._

On the plane ride home, Gibbs sat with Rossi, getting to know his fellow marine, while Spencer sat in one of the chairs, reading a book with Harley curled up on the seat next to him, listening to her iPod with her eyes closed and her feet in his lap. She looked like she was asleep, though Spencer, who had many experiences of watching her sleep, knew her to still be awake.

Spencer looked up from his book as Emily slid into the seat across from him.

"Hey," Emily greeted him.

"Hey," Spencer responded softly, looking back down at his book.

"Hey," Emily started once again, pulling his book down to get him to look at her, and grabbing his hand in hers. "I need you to listen to me. What Cyrus did to me was not your fault. It was my decision. And I would do it again. Do you hear me?"

Spencer looked away and then back at her with an uneasy expression of acceptance.

"Thank you." Emily squeezed his hand one more time before drawing back into her chair. Spencer smiled at her and she smiled back as Harley's foot rubbed his knee in a silent sign of support.

Harley was his guiding force. If Harley supported him, then all was well with that force.

" _Sometimes you have to kind of die inside in order to rise from your own ashes and believe in yourself and love yourself to become a new person."_

― Gerard Way


	15. Chapter 15: November 2008

**Authors Note: Please review. As I come to the conclusion of Winter Quarter, and my time before finals dwindles from two weeks away to less, I won't be able to write as much, but I will try my hardest, and I'll be sure to post an update during Spring break at the latest. And to all of you out there who are in the same boat as I am, my prayers are with you, and Godspeed. But please, please review. Your encouragement is so nice to have and it helps me to know if I'm doing things right or if I'm doing it wrong, or just whatever you guys feel about this story.**

 **Any who, on to the usual disclaimer: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy. And please review at the end. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley. And if you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, I may not use them, but I'd like to hear them, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions you send my way. Message me, or leave your idea in the review section, I'll be looking at both.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and support, and all your kind words of encouragement, weather you use your account to post the review or do it anonymously! Now on with the chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 15: November 2008

" _When your dream turns into a nightmare, rise to the challenge and slaughter the dragons"_

― Bangambiki Habyarimana _,_ _The Great Pearl of Wisdom_

The case in Las Vegas brought up dreams of dead little boys, and memories of a long time ago for Spencer. JJ was due to have her baby in the next month, and that too seemed to be adding to his dreams as well. By the time they closed their original case, Spencer was tired and stressed. He was calling Harley two times a day just to talk to her and talk through his dream with her. It was a reoccurring theme in his dreams that he'd been having since he himself was a little boy. And this case just seemed to make it flare up.

When he was at the funeral and realized he'd been at that graveyard before, and then Morgan came back with the Riley Jenkins case, Spencer spent a good hour talking to Harley who told him she'd see about getting the time off or finding a reason to be out there with him. As there case drew to a close and Spencer found Michael while the team thought the unsub had him out by the fire, a tightness in his chest gave way.

"I've got Michael. I've got Michael," Spencer radioed in, before picking up the small blond haired child. "Hi, Michael. I'm Spencer, and I work for the FBI. We're going to get you back to your mommy and daddy, okay?"

Michael nodded against his shoulder as Spencer walked with him out of the room. He walked into the living room of the house and sat down with Michael, putting him down next to him.

"So, we're going to sit here for a little bit until your parents can be brought out here to pick you up and take you home. Alright? So, do you prefer dinosaurs or dragons?"

Spencer watched as Michael was reunited with his parents and smiled a little. Morgan walked over to him, and started talking. "You know this is about a good a day as we're going to get on this job."

"I know."

"And yet, you're still thinking about a boy you're not even sure if you really knew."

"When I was four, my mother had a sense that I was in danger." And Spencer just had a feeling that this was more than just some newspaper article he remembered.

"Reid, your mother wasn't well." _Thanks, like I don't already know that._

"I know facts about the case."

"Reid, you've got an eidetic memory. Odds are you saw the story. He was just a kid like you. And it caught your imagination," Morgan explained, reiterating facts that Spencer was already consciously aware of. He already knew that this case could just be some newspaper article that he'd caught a glimpse of as a child. But it seemed like more than that, and Spencer needed to know.

"I don't really think that you believe that."

"You want to know what I really believe? I believe that you could have done anything in this world with your life and you chose to do this job. Your man Carl Young says our unconscious is the key to our life's pursuits." Morgan sounded like a pastor giving a sermon as he said it and Spencer almost smiled at the similarity.

"Yeah… Yeah."

"So, for whatever reason, that case was stuck in your brain all these years, and it not only to this career choice but to this same city where your mother lives and for us to have the opportunity to save this child."

"Yeah."

"Like I said. It's about as good a day as we're going to get, man. Enjoy your moment."

Spencer nodded, watching as Hotch walked over to them.

"Hotch, do you think it'd be possible to wait until tomorrow to return home?" Spencer asked. Hotch turned his gaze to Morgan.

"Do you think you could find something to do in Vegas for the night?" Hotch asked. And that was the end of that conversation, with Morgan going off to go make plans for the night.

That night, Spencer ended up sleeping on the couch in his mother's room and the dream that had been plaguing him persisted, this time with an added new character in it.

His father.

_._._._._

Harley's flight arrived early in the morning, and Spencer went to meet her, already knowing that this would be another plane ride home that he'd miss. He then dropped Harley off at the coroner's office before going to the hotel the team had been staying at to meet up with them.

He walked in through the doors and spotted them in a sitting area just off the lobby. It wasn't the Montecito, so he knew he'd be packing and moving hotels for his stay. Harley had already gotten a room arranged with Danny.

"Oh, here he comes right now. What'd you do? Sleep through your alarm?" Morgan asked jokingly.

"Sorry to keep you guys waiting," Spencer told them as he walked over to the group.

"Hotch is already at the airstrip. How fast can you pack?" JJ asked.

"Actually, I'm gonna… I'm gonna stay for a couple of days," Spencer told her. He'd already called and informed Hotch so their team leader already knew about his decision to stay.

"Is everything alright?" Rossi asked, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I just… I haven't seen my mom in a really long time so I'd like a few more days. And Harley caught a case out here and Agent Booth asked that I supervise her because he's working another case with Dr. Brennan." Spencer explained. Okay so it was all a well fabricated lie. The only case Harley had caught was the one he'd put her on.

"You sure?" Rossi asked for confirmation.

"Yeah." Spencer nodded.

"Okay, take a few days, do what you need to do." Rossi told him. The team started moving out of the lobby and Spencer was watching them go when JJ caught his arm.

"Hey, um, take care of yourself," JJ instructed him

"You too. Both of you," Spencer replied looking down at her belly. Part of him was concerned for the fact that she was still traveling with the team this far into her pregnancy. He was pretty sure he'd read something that said that was not recommended. And he wondered how she'd gotten her OB-GYN to sanction it.

He watched the team go before going up to the room and re-packing his go back to move it over to the Montecito. Harley had rented a car, and he'd already traded the SUV in. He'd be driving a Corvette for the rest of his time in Vegas.

_._._._._

Spencer and Harley were coming back from the police station and the coroner's office and had just entered the elevator to go to their room when Harley turned to Spencer. "You know while we're here, maybe we could go down to the pound and get that dog you promised me all those months ago?"

"Really?" Spencer frowned, shifting the evidence box in his hands.

"Yeah, and then when you're on a case, I could always have something from Vegas with me when your gone," Harley shrugged.

"Still, we could just get one when we get back to DC," Spencer told her.

"I think the months and months that we've been in DC and still not gotten a new dog prove that we never have time when we're in DC," Harley explained. "So we should do it while we've got time here."

"What would we even name a dog if we got one?" Spencer asked. "And why do I have to go with you to get the dog?"

"I want you to come with me because then it's our dog. Not just my dog, or just your dog. Ours. Something we both picked out and agreed on. Like our house. It'd signify something," Harley supplied as they stepped off the elevator and began walking down the hall to their room. "And you don't think of names for something you haven't even seen. You need to look at something and get to know something before you go and name it, Pen. Besides, there's a long list of names for these sorts of situations."

"DC superheroes, I'm sure," Spencer joked. "Just for future reference, when we have kids you don't plan on naming them after DC superheroes, right?"

"Not their superhero names," Harley shrugged walking up to the door to their room. "And maybe I'll change my MO and add some names of Marvel characters. But you do have to admit that you'd rather the name of a fictional superhero than the name of a seria..."

Spencer and Harley looked at the door to their room which was not closed, and from which sound was coming out from behind. Spencer nudged Harley behind him and pushed the door open, walking in first. He looked into the room where Rossi and Morgan where sitting on the couch in their hotel room watching a daytime soap opera with their feet on the coffee table.

"What are you guys doing here?" Spencer asked, looking between the two men and the TV,

"Hey. What's it look like we're doing?" Morgan asked him.

"Uh, breaking into my room and watching Days of Our Lives," Spencer answered, as Harley pushed in front of him and looked at the TV. He moved to put down the evidence box in the kitchenette.

"I think that's actually The Young and the Restless. They have a character on there that actually looks a lot like Derek," Harley stated getting a curious look from Spencer. He hadn't known Harley watched daytime television. Harley seemed to catch his look. "What, I had nothing better to do at 19 or 21."

Which was just a discrete way of referencing her long hospital visits.

"And you'd be right," Rossi told her, completely missing the underlying admission. "At least about the show."

"Aren't you supposed to be on a plane back to DC?" Spencer asked

"And you're supposed to be hanging out with your mom," Rossi shot back.

"And you're not," Morgan added. Then indicating to the box Spencer had just put down. "Riley Jenkins."

"No, that's not. That's not actually why I'm here," Spencer tried to tell them as they stood up from their seats. "It's one of Harley's cases."

"Don't use me to lie to them," Harley glared, moving to take one of the newly vacated spots.

"Reid," Morgan said, giving Spencer a look. "Come on man, who do you think you're talking to? I know what this has been doing to you."

"Maybe together we can find out who killed him," Rossi added.

"I think I might already know," Spencer told them, spotting Harley rolling her eyes from behind Rossi.

"Then tell us about the suspect," Rossi responded.

"The truth is, I don't really know anything about him. It's my father." To which he got an exasperated huff from Harley, whom he'd already told his theory to. Harley disagreed which lead to a minor argument, but she would continue to go along with Spencer's little witch hunt, if only because she loved Spencer enough to want to be there to see the look on his face when he was proven wrong. Okay, so maybe it wasn't out of love that she wanted to see that.

Later, after Spencer had spread out all the case files on the hotel bed, with Rossi and Morgan standing at the foot of the bed, and Harley looking over the backside of the chair she was sitting in, Spencer turned to face the three people who had chosen to stay and help him solve this case.

"Before we go down this road, you need to be sure," Rossi told him.

"He's right. Some rock don't need looking under," Morgan added as if he didn't already know. He knew, and this was just one of those rocks he needed to look under, for better or for worse.

He noticed Harley was remaining silent, although he could spot the worry in her eyes.

"My mind is sending me signals. I—I… I can't ignore them anymore," Spencer explained.

"Mixed signals. That's what the subconscious is all about. You know that," Rossi told him. Again, he knew that, and that's why this was all the more important. If he was wrong, fine. But if he was right…

"Reid, your dad left you. You take it to the extreme, you could say he killed your childhood," Morgan frowned at him. He could here Harley's annoyed huff and wanted to smile.

"Could explain the dream in which you see him as a murderer," Rossi added, at which point he noticed Harley had stopped watching them entirely and had turned back to the now dark television.

"I've come this far. I'm not going back," Spencer told them, something he knew Harley already knew and understood. He heard Harley's phone chime and her whispered "Shit." And suddenly he knew that Harley would be busy with something that wasn't proving weather or not his father was a murdered.

"Sorry Spence. Seems yesterday Jersey's favorite trouble-magnate flew out to Vegas and now Batman wants me to babysit for him because his guy couldn't bother to wash the explosive residue off of his boots before trying to fallow her though the airport," Harley sighed, standing up and going through her bag until she found an outfit for this excursion. "Call me if you need something run through CODIS."

Spencer smiled, watching her walk into the bathroom to change before leaving with Morgan and Rossi to go and interview his father.

_._._._._

Harley's use of the name Batman refers to a friend of hers from Jersey who runs a multi-million dollar security company, and who was the likely person she'd been with those three month in the summer that Spencer didn't have an account for. The man was an ex-Army Ranger who only wore black, drove expensive black cars, lived somewhere that wasn't listed on his ID, and always seemed to be up for rescuing damsels in distress. He's tall, dark, Cuban-American, handsome, and possessed a silent stoicism that was similar to Hotch's. Oh, and most people just knew him as Ranger.

He wasn't one of Harley's friends that Spencer ever worried about, if only because his attention seemed to be completely on the trouble-magnate that Harley had been asked to baby sit. And Spencer figured worrying about that one trouble-magnate was about as time consuming as a full time job. The only thing Spencer worried about was that said trouble-magnate seemed to get in over her head and attract any nearby car bomber. That made Spencer worry. It always would. But he had to put that worry onto the back burner at the moment and try and solve this case.

A soon as Spencer had read through the file on Gary Michaels, he'd called Harley to have her run him through CODIS, already knowing that this man was likely Riley Jenkin's murdered. But he had to know, to prove without a reasonable doubt that his father either was or wasn't a murderer.

He knew…

He knew Michaels was likely Riley's murderer and that he'd been killed and buried across state lines in California. And he knew that the fingerprint on Michaels glasses was from Riley's father. Harley had gotten him those results faster than Garcia had been able to. But he didn't and wouldn't be telling Garcia that. Plus, Harley had had a head start.

But he also knew his father was involved. He had to be.

He knew….

But the moment the door to the interrogation room opened and his mother stood there next to his father and behind the detective with Harley behind her, he almost seemed to deflate. The wind was stripped out of his sails, and he suddenly realized that his father had likely had next to nothing to do with this case at all. That he'd been looking at the wrong parent this whole time. And wasn't that just swell.

He ended up sitting in the detective's office with his mom in front of him, his dad leaning up against the desk between them, and Harley leaning up against the doorframe. He wanted to know why she wasn't babysitting for Ranger anymore, but that was likely a question better left for another time. There were more important questions to ask at the moment, and none of them would be lodged her way.

"I'd seen him around, at your ball games. At the park. You used to play chess there, do you remember?" his mother asked. "You played with him once."

"Michaels?"

"I didn't know that was his name back then, but it wasn't unusual for you to play with adults. And you'd win too," she told him with pride.

"Did he do something with me?" Spencer asked quietly, needing to know.

"Oh no. God no. but when I saw the way he looked at you, I knew what he was. I could just tell," she told him with Harley nodding her head in understanding behind her.

"A mother knows," Spencer smiled, catching Harley's eye and remembering the times he'd heard Alma say the exact same thing.

"Yes."

"So you called Riley's dad," Spencer stated.

She nodded her head. "Two nights later, Lou called the house. He was agitated. He said he needed me to meet him."

His mother plunged into detail explaining what had happened the night of Gary Michaels' murder.

"I sat there, I couldn't move. It was like a dream. That paralysis in the face of something terrible."

"What happened after that?"

"It's okay, Diana. Go on," his father encouraged her.

"At some point if found myself walking towards the house," his mother told him, starting again on the story. "And the rest… uh, it's all dark after that."

"You came home," his father told her. "She couldn't talk at first, but eventually I came to understand what had happened. And I knew that nobody could ever know."

"So you never told anyone?" Spencer asked.

"No, she could be implicated. And I had to protect her," his father told him, causing Spencer to flash back to watching his father burn clothing in the back yard.

"You were burning her bloody cloths," Spencer concluded.

"But the knowing, you can't burn that away," his father explained. "It changed everything."

"Is that why you left?" Spencer asked, with Harley silently slipping out of the room to allow him time alone with his parents. Plus, he's pretty sure she wanted to punch his father in the face for leaving a 10 year old in the care of a paranoid schizophrenic. Mush as he loved his mom, he knew that wasn't the right chose by him.

"I tried to keep us together, Spencer. I swear to you. But the weight of that knowledge was… it was too much," William Reid explained

"You could have come back. You could have started over," Spencer told him, already knowing that after 17 years it was nearly too late to even try and start over

"I didn't know how to take care of you anymore. When I lost that confidence, there was no going back," his father to him.

"What's done is done," his mother reminded him. "At least know you know the truth."

"I was wrong about everything. I'm sorry," Spencer appologised.

"I am too Spencer," his father stated, coming to sit down next to him.

"But what isn't done is you and Harley. I expected to see a ring on her finger by now. It's been years, Spencer," his mother complained causing him to laugh and his father to look at him in shock.

"You have a girlfriend?"

"Yeah, the girl who was just in here actually. We've been together for almost seven years now," Spencer told him, smiling at the thought, and fingering the small box in his pocket that he'd bought just days ago.

Out in the hall, Harley walked up to Rossi and sat down next to him. "If you want to get to know me and be my father and all of that, you need to promise me that you aren't just going to walk away or check out when the going gets tough. Because things happen, and life is hard, and there are going to be bumps in the road. And I already have a dad, a good dad. But I have room enough for one more, I guess. But I need you to promise that you aren't just going to walk way, because I've seen what that's done to Spencer, with his dad and with Gideon. And I don't want that. I couldn't haddle that. So I need you to promise me you won't just up and leave."

Rossi smiled sadly and put an arm around her shoulder, drawing her into his side where she seemed to relax. "Alright, I promise."

"And you need to tell me when something happens on a case with Spencer. Because it's my job to be there for him, and it'd help if I knew ahead of time what was going on."

Rossi just laughed.

_._._._._

Spencer and Harley took a quick stop at the Nevada SPCA before their flight back to DC. Spencer wasn't expecting to find anything, choosing to stand back as Harley went up to each and every cage and smiled at every one of the dogs. She only truly stopped at one cage and when she looked back at Spencer, he knew that it was his time to agree or disagree to take the dog home with them.

Spencer walked over and looked at the tan and white American Bulldog puppy that had caught Harley's eye. It was… large, even for a puppy, with floppy ears and much too large paws. It also laid in its bed at the far end of the cage looking bored. It didn't react to Harley's fingers into the cage through the wires of the cage, and it didn't react when Harley started talking to it. "Hey, Pretty Girls. Do you want to come home with Spencer and I?"

The dog didn't respond until Spencer crouched down next to Harley and wrapped his own fingers around the wire of the cage. Then the dog was up and moving across the cage to come and sniff at their fingers.

Harley smiled. "Oh, so that's how it's going to be? You prefer Spencer. I see how it is."

Spencer smiled at the dog. "You want to come home with us?"

The dog barked as if it understood what he'd asked, and Spencer laughed along with Harley.

"What are we going to name you?" Harley smiled at the dog.

Spencer thought about names in the DC Comics universe as he looked at the dog in front of him before a name came to his mind and he smiled. "Lyssa."

Harley turned to stare at him for a minute before turning back to the dog with a wide smile on her face. Lyssa Drak was the name he'd chosen. The keeper of the book or Parallax. She'd made her first appearance in the DC world in 2007 in an issue of Green Lantern that Spencer had just barely flipped through in the comic book store he'd stopped at during a case to pick up a comic book for Harley because that's what he'd taken to bringing her back from cases in recent years. Comic books she didn't own. He wasn't sure that she read all of them, but he did know she held onto them. There was an entire bookcase in their new library in their new house.

Lyssa Drak wasn't a really big or important character, but Spencer figured it was the thought that counted. And the fact he picked a character from DC Comics at all was more than enough for Harley.

"Hi, Lyssa. You want to see DC?" Harley asked the dog with a wide grin and a sparkle in her eye. And Spencer knew that he'd just meet the third dog in their household. It was a good thing that they owned enough land to have four dogs on, legally.

When they returned to DC, Harley took Lyssa home to meet the other dogs while Spencer went to the hospital to see JJ and her new baby. He was named as godfather to Henry LaMontange, and he smiled at the thought. But looking down at little baby Henry made Spencer think of his future with Harley and their potential children. It made him think of Harley's own goddaughter and cousin, Aurora, up in Trenton. And it made him think of little Jack Hotchner. Babies are peculiar that way. They make you think of other children.

When Spencer returned home, he found Harley and all three of the dogs curled up on the couch asleep in front of an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Schrodinger was watching from a shelf above the TV until he noticed Spencer looking at him, and scampered off to another dark corner of the house. It would be a normal sight to return to from now on when he returned from cases, and Spencer would smiled. Just happy that his was his life. His reality.

Later, Harley would laugh when Spencer told her about giving a hooker $2000 dollars after a conversation about how to quit smoking. And Spencer would ask about how she got out of babysitting three grown adult women. But for now, he put down his messenger back, pulled off his tie, and laid down next to Harley on the couch, cuddling into her back as the dogs move to cover him as well. It felt like home.

And nothing and no one was going to take that away from him.

Now he just had to do something with the little box in his messenger bag. The little box with the shiny little ring that he'd picked out from a shop in Las Vegas when Harley told him she would come out and help him solve Riley Jenkins case. A ring he really should have bought a long time ago, but had been putting it off until Harley came when he called, and stayed even after she decided he was wrong. She'd proven that the one thing he'd always worried about (that she'd walk out, like his father had, like Gideon had) wasn't going to happen.

Now, he just needed to find the right moment to ask the question.

" _I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best."_

― Marilyn Monroe

* * *

 **Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16: December 2008

**Authors Note: Please review. This is going to be a really short chapter, mostly because I don't feel like this would fit anywhere else, with any of the episodes, and this is just one thing that I wanted to really stand alone. So please enjoy.**

 **Any who, on to the usual disclaimer: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy. And please review at the end. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley. And if you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, I may not use them, but I'd like to hear them, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions you send my way. Message me, or leave your idea in the review section, I'll be looking at both.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and support, and all your kind words of encouragement, weather you use your account to post the review or do it anonymously! Now on with the chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 16: December 2008

" _My most brilliant achievement was my ability to be able to persuade my wife to marry me"_

― Winston S. Churchill

Spencer ended up proposing to Harley on Christmas Eve under the dark night sky of Trenton, New Jersey. The snow was at their feet, and they were bundled up in their jackets and scarves outside of her grandmother's bakery with the Christmas Eve celebration going on inside. They'd just finished dinner, the teens where in the kitchen washing the dishes, and the grown men where in the back room getting ready to unleash this years "Santa" on all present. So Spencer had taken the time to pull Harley aside and walk outside with her.

She was looking up at the sky with a smile on her face. "It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful."

"Don't do that. That sounds like something Tony would say. Not you," Harley grinned, turning to look at him. "You can come up with better lines than that."

"Still," Spencer shrugged. Spencer thought back to the last few weeks, and asking both Kieran and Rossi for her hand in marriage, something Spencer knew was important to Harley. He'd even gone as far as to ask both her grandfathers. He was kind of glad he did that part over the phone, because he probably would have lost his nerve if he'd had to sit there watching them laugh after he asked them. It was much easier on the phone. "You are beautiful. And you've stood by me at some of the darkest times of my life."

"You've stood by me through mine," Harley shrugged. "You where there at the hospital when I woke up after brain surgery. You were with me through last May."

"I know. And that's why this is so important. Harley, I look in your eyes and I can see the rest of my life in your eyes. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Harley. Will you marry me?" Spencer asked grabbing her hand and bending down onto one knee. He knew he could have gone off on some long dramatic monologue, but it's likely that at some point he would have ended up rambling and that wasn't what he wanted at the moment. Besides, Harley already knew all the words he'd have wanted to say, and she was one of those believers in actions mattering more than words. So instead he cut his speech short and swore he'd show her how much he loved her for the rest of their lives.

Harley didn't seem to mind a bit as a smile lit up her face like one of the Christmas trees in the window. "Yes. Always. Now show me the ring."

Spencer's eyes widened and he fumbled around reaching into his pockets.

"Don't tell me you forgot the ring," Harley told him, her grin widening across her lips.

"No… no. I… I have it." Spencer pulled the ring box out of his pocket and pulled it open, letting Harley look at the ring for a moment before he pulled it away from the box and slid it up Harley's finger.

She looked at it for a moment. It was a lotus shaped ring with a circular opal in the center, surrounded by small circle cut blue topaz and amethyst and set in rose gold. It was beautiful and unique. And Harley loved opals. But it'd never fit under her latex gloves at work. She gave him a look.

Spencer pulled out another, thinner and longer box out of his pocket. He opened it to show her a long rose gold chain. "I figured that you'd like a more flashy ring, and it reminded me of you when I got it. But I know the limitations of latex gloves, so I also go this so that you can still wear it at work, even if it's not on your finger."

"It's beautiful, Spencer," Harley grinned, helping him place the chain around her neck. "And thoughtful. I love it. And I love you."

Spencer grinned, kissing her on the lips. "Okay, let's go back inside, because I swear, your mom is going to come out here soon if I don't take you back in with that ring on sometime soon."

"She scares you," Harley smiled, teasing him.

"She scares most people," Spencer informed her.

Harley laughed. "Come on, Pen. Time to face the music."

Spencer and Harley walked back into the bakery to the sound of congratulations and women who wanted to see and admire the ring now adorning Harley's hand. They stuck by each other's side as they were assaulted with questions about the wedding that had yet to be thought about, and more and more cousins who wanted to stare and Harley's ring. The next day, they'd have to do it all again, with the Irish side of Harley's family. Then again when they visited his mom in New York. And again when they went back to work.

Shit.

Spencer hadn't thought about that before. He really wishes he had now.

But despite all of that, Spencer was happy. Really, truly happy. He had a whole future to live out with Harley, and he felt like he was only at the beginning of that future.

It was exciting.

" _So it's not gonna be easy. It's going to be really hard; we're gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, everyday. You and me... everyday."_

― Nicholas Sparks, _The Notebook_


	17. Chapter 17: March 2009

**Authors Note: Okay, so I am at the end of finals, which is just so nice at he moment. So this chapter jumps a few months from the last one, and the next chapter after this will likely jump a few more months ahead. Most of the ideas I'm having for this story take place in Season 6 and 7, so we're likely going to be skipping months for a while. So, please stick with me, and offer idea's if there are certain things you, as the reader, would like to see happen. I don't mind in the slightest, and every idea helps, even if you don't see me use it in the following chapters.**

 **Oh, and for those of you who belong to the grammar police and have problems with my dyslexic brain's inability to catch and correct grammar and spelling mistake, I have no beta, so if it really bothers you, feel free to apply for this non-profit job.**

 **Any who, on to the usual disclaimer: This story takes place in the Criminal Minds universe with the occasional crossover into the Bones universe. As such, I only own my own original characters and everything else belongs to the writers and networks, blah, blah, blah.**

 **Hope you enjoy. And please review at the end. I love hearing what you all think of Spencer and Harley. And if you have any suggestions or ideas for this story, I may not use them, but I'd like to hear them, and I'd really appreciate any suggestions you send my way. Message me, or leave your idea in the review section, I'll be looking at both.**

 **Thank you all for your reviews and support, and all your kind words of encouragement, weather you use your account to post the review or do it anonymously! Now on with the chapter…**

* * *

Chapter 17: March 2009

_._._._._

" _The funny thing is that although we place so much energy and importance on our wedding day, it isn't the biggest day of our life. The biggest day of your life is every day thereafter. Because it's not the pledge to love someone that matters, but the act of fulfilling that pledge that is most important. In other words, it's only just begun."_

― Laura Wolf, _Diary of a Mad Bride_

_._._._._

Alma Isley visited DC in March to go wedding dress shopping with Harley. Spencer and Harley had set the date earlier in the year, deciding on a late summer wedding in the next year. They'd decided on having the wedding in California, with Harley and Kieran deciding to split the fee to get the family out to the west coast. It'd mean his mother could be driven to the wedding rather than flown out. They'd decided to do a vintage wedding at Meadowood Napa Valley, which was actually located north of Napa in St. Helena. They'd spent a week there when they'd first become exclusive while Harley recovered from brain surgery at 21, and they tried to take a weekend in Napa every year since around the time of their anniversary. New Zealand had been the place they'd met, but Napa was the place that they'd first really been alone together, and where they'd really come to connect with each other.

The wedding was going to be vintage, with a theme that Harley called "West coast Gatsby", with the elegance and drama of the early nineteen twenties. As such, Harley's bridesmaids (for which she'd chosen fellow forensic scientist Abby Scuito, her cousin and middle man, Murphy Isley, and her childhood friend and teenage rival, Delinda Deline) would be dressed in 1920s inspired flapper dress remakes (because finding fitting, similar, color coordinated authentic flapper dresses was an undertaking that no one wanted to try and undertake).

Currently, Harley and Alma where at a bridal shop that Alma had managed to procure for the day as Harley tried to find her dress in the racks of dresses that Alma had found, borrowed, and brought with her to DC. Many came from vintage sellers all across the contry, and others where inspired designs that had been sitting in costume storage throughout Hollywood. And a few other remakes that some designers had created. Nonna was with them, as well as Harley's godmother, Hetty Lange, and Murphy, who was down from Boston for a dress sizing.

"Just explain it to me, because I really don't understand," Murphy demanded in the least demanding tone of voice she could muster. Murphy towered over Harley at 5'9", with fiery red hair she wore in old Hollywood glamor curls. She liked wearing tight, provocative outfits which suited her job as agent (dabbling in everything from talent to press to sports) and overall concurer of men. Murphy has a sharp eye and an even sharper tongue. She doesn't take any shit, and misogynistic remarks in her presents are usually met with a stiletto heel in places most men don't want them. She's fiercely protective of family, and Harley was basically her sister after the five years she ended up living with Kieran and Alma before she reached 18. "Why the 1920s?"

"You mean besides the gangsters, speakeasies, F. Scott Fitzgerald, the fashion, Jazz music and Coco Chanel?" Harley grinned at her, knowing she'd gotten Murphy with Chanel. "I love the fashion and flare, the dancing and excitement. And it was an era of change. So much technology being introduced, social change came about, and the rules of society seemed to change as well. It's an era of wild living and happiness bookmarked by great and terrible sadness. A sort of light in a very dark forty year stretch of time. The sinking of the Titanic, World War I, the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean War. It's an extremely important time in our history.

"Plus, Spencer used to read me _The Great Gatspy_ from memory when I'd call him after a bad day or a seizure. It reminded me of Uncle Bennie, who'd read it to me as a bedtime story when I used to stay with him. He'd read me all these British classics by day, but come night fall he'd pick up this worn, yellow paged, dog eared copy of _The Great Gatsby_ and read it to me in that deep, soft voice of his. I'd missed that so much, and then Spencer went and started reciting it from memory. We'd only met like half a dozen times at that point, but he was reciting a book that meant so much to me. It… He was reading it to me when I when I woke up after having brain surgery, and I just remember realizing that… That he was the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. That I couldn't stand the idea of having to go through life without being able to talk to him and hear his voice. I won't say that's the moment I fell in love with him, because it's not, but it was the moment that put me on the path to falling in love with him. it was the moment I realized that I could love him.

"The Great Gatsby is an important part of Spencer and my story. And that's all this wedding is about. Spencer and I and our life together. It's not the start of the story, it's just the start of a new chapter for us. And we want our wedding to reflect that," Harley smiled softly, looking though the dresses.

"That's a wonderful reason, my dear," Hetty smiled. "But I do believe it's time for you to actually start trying on some of these dresses."

Harley laughed, pulling a few dresses from the rack to add to the pile her mother and Nonna had already picked out. Harley tried on several that all seemed to range from being too bid or not big enough before trying one on and finding out that it fit like a glove. Harley stared at herself in the mirror with her family looking from behind her.

Harley stood still, looking at herself in this perfect gown. She didn't have words to voice how… perfect this dress was. The cut, the style, the thread work. The feel, the way it looked on her. The sheer perfection of the dress that fit her in all the right places with only minor fixes being needed here or there. This was _the_ dress. And looking at the faces of the women behind her, they knew it too.

"Oh, sweetie," her mother grinned with tears in her eyes. "You look amazing."

"If this dress doesn't make Spencer at a loss for words, I don't think there's anything that can," Murphy grinned. "You look stunning."

"I quiet agree," Nonna told her, coming up beside her and grabbing Harley's hand. "I think my mamma's pearls will go perfectly with this dress."

Harley and Alma both looked at the older woman in shock. Nonna never let anyone tough her mamma's special pearls, the one's that Nonna's papa had given her in the early 1920's when they'd first met and the family was still in Sicily. It was a long string of pearls that could wrap and wrap around your neck that Nonna treasured much as her mother had, and that she refused to let anyone else wear. So it was shocking to here her offer now. None of the other brides in the family had ever gotten the same offer.

"What? Mama would want her to, dressed like this. And Mama loved men like Spencer. It's why she always wished I'd have married your uncle Bennie, rather than my Francesco," Nonna reminisced with a smile. "The look on Bennie's face when she told him… I'm not sure he ever recovered from the shock."

Harley smiled at her. "If your sure."

"I am," Nonna nodded. "Besides, those pearls haven't seen a dress like this since Mamma's own wedding. They deserve it. You deserve it, tesorino **(little treasure)**."

"Well, I do believe I know just the pair of shoes to go with that dress," Hetty smiled, standing to the back of the group. "And a very nice veil, as well."

_._._._._

Harley and Spencer spent a Thursday evening later that week together at Vertiacl Rock, a rock climbing gym in Manassas. They'd been doing races to see who could climb to the top faster, as well as competing with each other on specified routs. Currently they were in the boulder-cave where the walls where only eighteen feet tall and no harnesses where needed. They had to heft themselves up from the ground, climb marked paths along the walls and ceiling, and try to hang on as they're brains worked to figure out the best positions and the best ways to transfer their hold from one climbing hold to another.

"So, who are your groomsmen going to be?" Harley asked, looking at Spencer as he made his way around the cave.

"I already asked Danny to be my best man. And I asked Tony to be one of my groomsmen. I'm still deciding on a third," Spencer told her, moving along the wall.

"Well, pick someone who can handle Murphy. I'm sticking Tony with Abby, and Delinda designated herself into the maid of horror—sorry, honor—position," Harley grinned, eyeing his rear. "What about anyone from work?"

"Morgan?" Spencer signed. "I've thought about it. But we don't really spend a lot of time together outside of work. And when we do, it's things he and the team like to do, like going to bars and stuff. And he barely knows you."

"That's fixable," Harley shrugged. "What about Aaron?"

"No. I spend more time with him away from work than any other team member, but it's weird. He's my boss. No," Spencer told her. "Declan?"

"No, I still need to decide who's walking me down the aisle, which go really complicated last May. I mean Dave's DNA is a part of me. His proverbial blood. But Dad's blood, sweet, and tears went into raising me. And… Honestly, I don't want to offend either one of them, but I also don't want two men walking me down the aisle. So, I need Declan available as a backup," Harley signed. She then laughed as Spencer fell from the wall while trying to switch hands. "What about Ethan?"

"So you and Rossi have any plans to get together anytime soon?" Spencer asked, standing up and wiping the chalk off as he avoided the question.

"Yeah, we have plans to meet up this weekend so long as you guys aren't called away before then. We plan to walk around Old Town, and tour the shops and such. It makes me miss the Old Town in San Diego and Coronado," Harley smiled. "But it's been fun, getting to know him. You know, we should invite the team over for dinner some time."

"Maybe," Spencer agreed. "So, flower arrangements?"

Harley glared at him, groaning.

Spencer just grinned.

"So back to Ethan…"

_._._._._

Harley walked up to the front door of the house that JJ, Will, and Henry lived in, and knocked. The BAU team was out on a case in Boston, which prompted Harley's visit. She'd been making similar visits to Henry and Will ever since JJ had returned to work, just to check in and see if Will needed anything. Having grown up in an Italian/Irish family, she knows how hard raising babies is, especially when one parent is gone often, so she liked to check in on Will just to see how he's doing. It wasn't because she thought that Will was anything less than a superb father, but more because babies don't necessarily stick to a schedule and sleep is a commodity. She used to do the same with Haley and Jack, even though he was older at the time.

Will open the door and smiled at her. "Good morning, Harley. How's your day been?"

"Good, thank for asking," Harley smiled in return. "Spencer asked me to drop off this book for Henry and I came by for the baby fix."

Will laughed, inviting her into the house. "So, I haven't seen you around since you went down for Mardi Gras."

He was referring to her trip down to New Orleans at the later end of February. She'd gone down to help the local NCIS field office with a body they'd gotten. It'd been right before Mardi Gras, and she'd stayed for about a week after, sticking around to offer her help on the case. She hadn't been by during the BAU's last case due to her own case load which had just let up yesterday.

"Hey baby," Harley grinned, speaking in a low voice once she spotted Henry. "How are you feeling? Good? Good."

Harley sat down in front of the baby, making faces at him, to which he laughed at. Will smiled, sitting down on the floor across from her. "You and Spencer ever talk about having kids?"

"We've talked about it, sure. And we came to the conclusion that for us to raise a child together, one of us is going to need to cut back a little at work. And I think Spencer's always going to be terrified that he'll pass on schizophrenia. But… It's a risk we're both willing to take. We're just going to hold off on taking that risk for a few more years. Enjoy the rest of our twenties. We still have a few good years left in us, you know."

Will laughed. Then, in his southern drawl he told her, "You'll make a good mama."

"Thank you," Harley told him. "So, what do you say we leave the house and take Henry to the Playseum in Bethesda?"

"Sound like a plan, cher."

_._._._._

When Spencer returned from the case in Boston, following in the resurfacing of the Reaper, Spencer joined Harley on her night run with the dogs. Spencer had Lyssa's leash, and Harley had Slade's while BC had lazily stayed at home. Harley usually ran 10 kilomiters a day, split so she only did five in the morning and another five at night. She may no longer be a professional gymnast, but she was still a hard core athlete, and she enjoyed pushing herself with new and challenging feats of athleticism.

She'd grown up on the California coast, and was used to spending most of the year outdoors. She'd grown up swimming, surfing, and rock climbing year round. Now that she lived on the East Coast, she'd traded swimming for running, and surfing for yoga.

"You know, running on asphalt if actually better for your knees then running on cement," Spencer told her as they ran. Harley just laughed and rolled her eyes before using her body to push him off of the side walk and into the street in response. Spencer laughed in response and pulled her into the street with him in retaliation. "What would you think about inviting the team over for dinner one night?"

"Oh," Harley laughed. "So my idea was a good one, wasn't it?"

Spencer shock his head as he continued running alongside her.

"Sounds good. But I refuse to cook alone. So we have to invite Tony because I don't trust you with more than a salad," Harley grinned. Spencer grinned. He could cook… so long as it wasn't Italian, or so Harley tells him. He'd learned to cook in the time between his father leaving and his first day at Caltech, having to cook dinner most days to feed himself and his mother. But he was very analytical about it, and made food like a chemist mixing chemicals. And Harley swore that Italian food tastes best when there's tradition and love behind it. Thus, Spencer couldn't cook Italian.

"What if we invited Rossi over early?" Spencer suggested.

"I'll think about it," Harley shrugged. "I'd need to find out if he's the type of man who believes that it's perfectly reasonable to drive two hours for good Italian food first."

Spencer laughed a full bellied laugh because not only did Harley believe it was reasonable to drive two hours for good Italian food (a trip she'd been making since she was a little girl. Back them that two hour trip lead to Roma D'Italia, and now days that trip took them to Angelini's Italian restaurant), but she also believed that traveling home three times a year, not to visit her parents but to take the two hour drive to Roma D's, was still perfectly sane.

Spencer and Harley ran in silence for another mile. As they were rounding the corner that would set them on a straight path home, Harley brought up a new line of conversation. "So, how about we go to Virginia Beach this weekend? A little sun, a little sand, and maybe a little smoochie."

Spencer laughed. "Sounds like a plan. You want to ride the bike down, or would you rather rent a convertible?"

"Let's take the bike out. Haven't used it in a while and having the wind in my hair sounds nice," Harley grinned. "I'll race you the rest of the way back. Ready, go."

Spencer grinned as he and Lyssa sprinted after Harley and Slade, running the rest of the way to house at full speed.

He loved these nights when he and Harley ran together. There was just something about it. Harley always wanted to race at the end and Spencer could probably predict it moments before it happens based on past experience alone. It was a good point to relax and let the stress of the day go. On days that Spencer was home for, Harley and Spencer used the run to talk shop and any topics one knows the other might argue with them on. It was Harley's method of keeping the house "clean of bad feelings and bad auras". Or, well, it was more like Harley's way of making sure the job was left at the door and inside they could just be Harley and Spencer without the stress and the protective walls that came with the job. The only exception for the "check the job at the door" was in the office where the two of them had case files and crime screen photos scattered about. Thankfully the office was hidden behind a bookshelf door in the library so it was masked from visitors and hidden from view.

It was just too bad that in just a few months these runs would be put to a sudden screeching hault, and Spencer would end up going months without another afterwards.

_._._._._

" _He wasn't the type for displays of affection, either verbal or not. He was disgusted by couples that made out in the hallways between classes, and got annoyed at even the slightest sappy moments in movies. But I knew he cared about me: he just conveyed it more subtly, as concise with expressing this emotion as he was with everything else. It was in the way he'd put his hand on the small of my back, for instance, or how he'd smile at me when I said something that surprised him. Once I might have wanted more, but I'd come around to his way of thinking in the time we'd been together. And we were together, all the time. So he didn't have to prove how he felt about me. Like so much else, I should just know."_

― Sarah Dessen, _The Truth About Forever_


End file.
